Dreamtime
by Thranx
Summary: A girl appears mysteriously in Harry's dreams, a boy looks suspiciously like Snape, and Harry's new family tree 5th Year AU Snape has a soul, Neville a spine! Includes: death, despair, dismemberment; bonus: a boggart vs a fluffy kitty -who will win?
1. The Dream

A/N: This is a fifth year AU featuring Harry growing into his powers, Neville gaining a backbone, Snape finding his family, and lots of bloodshed and despair in between. I started this years ago but recently found an outline for the end so decided to finish.

Disclaimer: All the characters you recognize belong to J. K. Rowling. (I would like to own Snape…but I guess that's another story). The ones you don't come from my head.

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The Dream

It was a hot and humid July afternoon when Harry Potter pulled the shade down over the window to his room and lay down on his small bed in the semi-darkness. He concentrated on the thin slices of light jabbing through the edge of the shade, trying to push away all thoughts of the Dursley's earlier quarrel and their ensuing vacation.

When his head was finally as empty as the house around him, he tried once more to call the dream back. Dumbledore and Sirius had both told him to keep them informed if his scar hurt again, but this had been entirely different. Hadn't it? The image of a girl in his dream haunted his waking hours.

He imagined what his friends would say if he sent them an owl. Hermione would no doubt want to consult every medical expert available about the strange variances of curse scars. Telling Ron would even worse as the entire Weasley family would probably all know within five minutes - all nine of them. He could just imagine the amusement Fred and George would share as they sat him down for a "man-to-man" talk, lowering their voices in mock maturity while each took an arm and confided, "Now, Harry, at your age these dreams are to be expected as a natural occurrence…" He could imagine Ginny's red face and even redder hair, ducking out the room in embarrassment and Ron's flustered voice in the background.

Writing to Sirius might be just as bad. If interpreted the wrong way, the dream might encourage an undesired talk about "how it is," a conversation that would no doubt be awkward between a man who had spent twelve years of his young adulthood locked in dreary Azkaban and his trouble-finding teenage godson who less than three years ago had believed the two of them to be mortal enemies.

Harry still didn't know a lot about these dreams he sometimes had. Dumbledore's fishy explanation of sensing only Voldemort's extreme emotions notwithstanding, he knew he was no expert at understanding the nuances of an affliction that not many people had - not any, actually. Although he had spent a large portion of his life with the scar on his forehead, he still cringed at the mere mention of it.

But what Harry did know confused him more than what he didn't: the dream was real.

He shook his head in bewilderment and closed his eyes, bringing back the vivid bright colors of the dream. It had started with his flying around the Quidditch field. He was trying to escape from an unknown team dressed in black. He flew through a swarm of bats, thinking they were also his enemy before he realized too late that they were trying to shield him from the enemy that was now ripping through them.

He passed Dumbledore flying in the opposite direction, who was mumbling, "Just like your father - you'll make the family proud." Harry thought he mumbled more about family trees, but before he could get back in the game he saw something fly overhead.

It looked like a bird, only with enormous wings, a strange mix between a dark magenta and light wine, a unique deep carmine. He wondered briefly if he was making the color up, as he was dreaming. It hit him with a shock that he was dreaming - and knew it. With a new lucidity, he looked back over his shoulder at the game which had frozen in place without his presence.

He followed the colored dot on the horizon over the Forbidden Forest. Finally he caught a glimpse through the trees, a spark of color. He dived down to find himself landing in a clearing, a meadow of sorts whose wild grass was broken only by the several large chunks of rocks scattered as though a giant had haphazardly thrown them down, each being about the size of one or two cars. The slender, dark green grass which came half-way up to his knees swayed hypnotically, as if dancing in the strong breeze that gave the whole clearing a strange underwater or otherworldly look. 

What captured his attention, however, was the small figure perched on the edge of a rock on the other side of the meadow. He knew for sure now that he was definitely dreaming because now he was walking in slow-motion as the air thickened and the light pulsed bluer and bluer. The trees in front of the figure dropped away to show a cliff and an expanse of rainbow colored land so far away he couldn't even tell its' color's apart. The figure solidified into a girl, a teenager, he guessed, whose black wavy hair shone in the strange light as the wind whipped it back and forth across the top of her slim shoulder blades. He was close enough now to see the small indentations her spine made against her pale-white skin. He realized she was half-humming, half-singing a small ponderous melody that seemed to pulse in rhythm with the light. It became like a loud drumbeat, a telltale heart, the strong vibrations tickling his chest.

She was naked.

He pulled himself up onto the rock and kneeled down behind her. He had the eerie sense that this was a script that had happened before, every movement precisely as dictated. She slowly turned around to face him.

He stared down into eyes the same color as the wings he had seen before. Suddenly he was pulled into those eyes, not unlike the sensation he experienced falling into Tom Riddle's diary his second year, or Dumbledore Pensieve last year. 

He was tumbling through empty space and at the same time surrounded on all sides by a force that pressed closer and closer. An intense vibration started in the top of his forehead and traveled down through his toes. Images knifed through his head in rapid succession, each gone before he could make sense of the preceding one. They sliced through his head, razor-sharp and shockingly violent.

Hands tossed a small red-haired girl in the air; time froze as the picture zoomed in on her wide green eyes.

In another Professor Snape knelt over a nondescript bundle, wailing into the night as the tears streaming down his face shone in the moonlight; the bundle feebly moved and whimpered.

A huge immense blackness suddenly formed a small green crack, the dark pushed up against the green and started to overwhelm it.

A fire burned far across an ocean, a small dot that faded silently away into the rising dawn.

A reptilian figure climbed a tree and tossed out a knife which went straight for a man's throat.

Burned and slashed bodies littered fields stained red in the twilight.

He saw more fires and snakes and railroads and saw countless faces and heard screaming, a flash of images that rushed by so quickly he wasn't sure if they had ever been there at all.

The wailing intensified and reached a new pitch as the pressure became unbearable and it all swirled together into a shrieking mass of bright blue light.

He had woken up screaming.

When he had lain back down, his sweat rolling off him onto the damp bed, a name rolled over his tongue like an after-taste, a name whispered like a kiss: June. He gingerly felt his scar and was surprised that it didn't hurt. Instead there was a kind of tickling burn that wasn't wholly unpleasant. Although it had been 3:42 a.m., he didn't go back to sleep that night.

It had been a week ago from today. His nights since had been a dark void, a dreamless and deep slumber that left him fully refreshed but unsure if he had ever really been asleep. The dream, however, continued to haunt his days.

His reveries were interrupted suddenly by a short scream the duration of a hiccup. He sat up and rubbed his eyes. The clock on his nightstand showed that it was late afternoon, only an hour of so away from when he would trudge down to the kitchen and make dinner with the food the Dursley's had left for him while they went on vacation. For his overbearing family, the food would probably have lasted only a week, but for him it could last almost a month. Besides, he knew his friends would see to it that he didn't starve, with the help of Hedwig.

He pulled up the shade and squinted down into the street. Privet Drive had emptied itself of most its occupants, something Harry was not particularly upset about, but now there were two people in front of #4. Harry could guess from their clothes that they had been running, and although he didn't envy their trek through the afternoon July heat, he automatically felt admiration for them. He was quite good at running himself, which became useful whenever Dudley had the notion to make Harry his private punching bag (back when Dudley could actually swing his arms around the enormous hulk that was his body).

One of the runners sat on the hot concrete, carefully feeling elbows and knees that had apparently been skinned during a rather nasty fall. The second runner leaned over the first. Both their faces were hidden.

In the blink of an eye, Harry was down the stairs and out the door.

"Hey!" he called awkwardly as he jogged down the walk. "I, er, heard you fall and -"

His voice caught in his throat as the second runner straightened. He looked to be about Harry's age, although taller and, if possible, paler beneath the growing sunburn on his shoulders and nose. His shirt was tied around his head, but Harry could see a dark wisps of hair peeking out. With his long, straight nose, despite the running clothes the boy looked exactly like a younger version of Professor Severus Snape.

Harry paused, wondering how to disclose this unsettling bit of information.

"Hi, I'm Llian!" he introduced himself, shaking the hand of a shocked Harry. "Would you mind if we borrowed a couple of bandages to get my sister cleaned up? Huh, June?" He turned back to the other runner, whose knees were bleeding freely onto the pavement. She squinted up at Harry, giving a small polite smile.

Although she wore black oval glasses over her dark charcoal eyes, Harry stiffened in recognition: it was the girl from his dream.


	2. Companionship

Companionship

------

Harry leaned against the doorframe as Llian rummaged through the Dursley's medicine cabinet. June sat on the counter and patted her knees carefully with a wet towel.

"We really appreciate this," Llian said, as he found some gauze and antibiotic cream. "Most people in this part of town would have shut the door in our face. You should have seen the look this couple gave us when they drove by. It's like they've never seen runners before."

"Oh, they've seen them, all right," June said wryly. "But only in air conditioned gymns, with televisions blaring overhead."

Llian gave a mock-gasp. "Are there really such things? Is that what. . ._normal_ people do?"

Harry laughed. "It's true," he said. "I've been doing my Aunt and Uncle's gardening for the past fourteen years, give or take a few, and I've yet to see any one of the Dursleys step foot outside during the summer heat." He thought of them driving away in their car a few weeks ago, not even a backwards glance to their nephew.

"You live with your Aunt and Uncle?" June guessed.

"Er, I'm kind of an orphan, I guess. They took me in because. . .well, I've not a clue why seeing as how much they. . .well." Harry felt like an idiot; what kind of person starts to give his life story to relative strangers?

But Llian brightened. "We're orphans, too! But it's great; no Aunts or Uncles for us, just me and June and the open road." He slipped into a painfully obvious American accent.

June seemed to find this delightfully funny. "Llian, do you _have_ to cover up the wounds completely? Shouldn't it be better to air them out?"

"Listen to this sicko! I'm on to you, you just want your bloodied knees on display for the whole world to see."

"They're battle wounds!" June insisted.

"I see," Harry interjected. "Marks of bravery. Very Gryffindor." The words slipped out before he realized what he was saying, but luckily the twins (or just siblings) kept on talking.

Llian complained about his sister's penchant for masochism. "This one thinks injuries make her a real person. Last time she got blisters she wore sandals around for weeks just to show 'em off."

They moved into the living room, where Harry remembered years of training at being a "gracious host" and offered them glasses of water. Llian took huge gulps while June sipped tentatively.

Despite being off-put originally by Llian's menacing appearance, Harry found both the siblings very open and likeable. They talked easily, but never, he noticed, about anything personal.

"Yes, we're twins," Llian confirmed. "Or at least, that's what we call ourselves. We actually didn't meet until we were eleven, but after that it was fate. . ."

They told him about different places they'd been: Austrailia originally, then Bali, Calcutta, Austria, Florence, and finally the States. "There're a couple of schools here that we're looking into," June said, but neither said what they were doing in Little Whinging. As far as Harry could tell they were nomads drifting through.

They talked about sports; Llian in particular liked to complain about American football. "You'd think it was the only sport in existence, the way people go on over there. I mean, at least Quidditch--"

Llian stopped, flustered, but Harry relaxed and said, "Yeah, Quidditch is really awesome."

After that it was as if they had been friends their entire lives. They talked about the Magical versus Muggle world, and different Quidditch brooms, and familiars, and the recent trolls uprising in Finland.

"Llian is a historian," June supplied. "He pretends it's because he's academic and pretentious, but it's really only because he likes blood and gore."

"Look who's talking," Llian countered. "This girl has a thing for horror movies; she's even written some horror stories herself."

"You're a writer?" Harry asked.

June shrugged.

They ate sandwiches together in the Dursley's sterile kitchen as the light outside dwindled and finally disappeared.

"I'm sorry I can't offer you anything else," Harry apologized. He didn't know when the Dursleys would come back or how he would get more food. Thank Merlin for Hedwidge and Mrs. Weasley.

"We've had worse," Llian said.

They tried to bake a cake afterwards, despite Harry's lack of ingredients. June seemed to sense Harry's discomfort with using a lot of food, and promised to come back the next day with groceries. "We wouldn't want to eat you out of house and home." Neither of them asked where the Dursleys were, or why there was nothing in the fridge except for jam and stale bread.

"Does Hogwarts accept transfer students?" Llian asked after a break in conversation. June held her breath.

"I dunno," Harry answered honestly. "I suppose they do." Most "transfers" already had family who were going or had gone to Hogwarts, so it wasn't a big deal for them to enter late.

They spent the rest of the night flipping through the telly, trying to find the most ridiculous shows. Llian wanted to watch a documentary, but June shot down that idea with a shouted, "Boring!" They finally settled on a 1950s black and white horror movie. "See his zipper!" June shouted triumphantly when the monster turned his back to the camera.

Harry realized with a start that it was already past 1am. "You guys might as well stay here for the night. No sense in running several miles in the dark."

"Awesome, it'll be just like a slumber party," Llian said, throwing his arm around Harry. Harry found himself laughing harder than he meant to. He was happy that they would spend the night and glad, strangely, that June had tripped in the first place.

But June suddenly shivered. "I don't want to stay here. We haven't showered or anything."

"Since when are you the poster-girl for hygiene?" Llian shot back.

"I just. . ." Llian stopped smiling for a second as June continued. "I don't know." She smiled wearily at Harry. "Thank you so much for everything, I guess we will crash down here."

"Oh no," Harry argued. "There's a guest room, and my cousin's bedroom--"

"We'll be fine," Llian said. "I'll take the couch and June can have the recliner. You see, she has this special talent where she can sleep in any position at any time, even standing on her feet. Once she feel asleep in the middle of class with her eyes wide open and her hand still writing."

"It was only nonsensical squibbles!" she said.

"It was still amazing. Many people have lived and died without seeing such a feat." June seemed to have gained back her humor at Llian's words and started giggling.

"If you're sure," Harry said.

"Yes, me and my talented dreamer will be just fine down here." He hugged June close as Harry left for his own bed.

Half an hour later, with his face pressed against the pillow, Harry realized that he never found a chance to talk to June alone. He still didn't know if she was the girl was his dream, and, more importantly, whether she recognized him. Llian had talked about her sleeping, and then called her a talented _dreamer_. Unable to make sense of it, Harry drifted off to sleep himself.

------

So this was the great Harry Potter. Llian had read about him in books, of course. Most books on the so-called Modern Dark Age mentioned the story; Llian was sure he knew more about it than Harry himself. Even with the scar right in front of him, it had taken Llian a while to connect Harry with The Harry. Llian felt sorry for him, living, obviously neglected, on the edge of suburbia, without any friends or magical companions.

He had known for a week that he would meet Harry. June had fallen asleep in the living room a week ago, and when Llian tried to pry the book from her sleepy arms, she woke long enough to say, "Harry. I've never met someone named Harry before."

"Harry?" He gave the book a final tug. It was on the art of writing.

"He was at my place, at my Rock." June had long ago told him or her ability to dream lucidly. She could make places in her head and then visit them any time she wanted. She could catch glimpses of the future or past. Llian had often urged her to learn more about her powers, but she always resisted.

"You don't understand," she always said. "I see so many different things in my dreams, it would be impossible to sort out what's in the past or the present or the future, and which is even in this continent or this dimension."

"But it's a gift," Llian said, "and a bloody useful one, too."

June always looked pained when Llian argued about her dreams. "I don't want to know any more about them. They are. Besides, it didn't help our mum any to know about them. She's still just as dead."

So when June half-woke to murmur a strange boy's name, Llian had been half-forgetful, but half-frightened. Was this something important? Would it change their lives? Save them from the torture of moving yet again to a new place with new troubles?

"He found his way to Dreamtime," June murmurred. "No one's been there with me before. When we see him we can. . ."

"We can what?" Llian pressed.

June shivered. "Dark, dark - something about him scares me. He's powerful. Power. Dark." She drifted back to sleep.

------

Llian gave up trying to sleep and turned over to see the entire living room. June was wide awake and staring at him from the recliner. "Can't sleep?" she said. Llian could barely see her in the dim shadows cast by furniture. The streetlight outside flickered for a second, and then was still.

"Not really. What was that about earlier, your not wanting to stay? A premonition?"

June shrugged. "Dunno." She sighed. "It's definitely the same boy. But he acts so strange, so open and friendly. Like he's hiding depths he doesn't know about."

"Whatever," Llian muttered. He had found Harry pretty straightforward. But she was right, at the same time - there was more to him.

He watched him sister, her skin pale, almost glowing. How beautiful she looked at night, he thought. But so lonely. He lifted up his blanket. "Come here," he urged.

June got up and crawled under the cover. Her hands and feet were cold. She curled up against him, her head on his chest. He stroked her back until her breathing deepened. As exciting as June's dreams and premonitions could sometimes be, he wished that his sister could have restful dreams, for once.


	3. Attack!

Attack!

------

Harry walked into the Gryffindor common room. He waved over to Hermione and Ron, who were sitting next to Dumbledore.

"Hi Tom!" Hermione gushed. "Harry here's telling us about the fire."

Harry was confused. "What fire? He's not Harry, I am," he tried to explain.

"Nonsense," Ron said. His chair started floating and spinning him in circles above the table. Harry saw Draco fly by the window on Harry's Firebolt, laughing wickedly.

A girl with red hair, must be Ginny, ran across the room and jumped into Dumbledore's lap, planting a kiss on his forehead with a loud smack. She looked up at Harry - her eyes had turned green.

Harry's body jerked and when his eyes focused he realized he was staring at the blanket clutched in his fist. He tried to remember the dream he'd just had. Something about the common room and Dumbledore.

He sat straight up, his heart leaping up his throat. A jolt of pain had just hit his scar. Very strongly.

He tip-toed around the room in panic. His thoughts were jumbled. Should he send a letter ASAP to Sirius, or maybe even Dumbledore? He had promised to let them know. But he was probably being silly over nothing.

But what if Lord Voldemort was really right outside on Privet Drive?

He made himself sit down and tried to control his breathing. Ok Harry, he told himself, you've just got to calm down. Number one, Hedwig is gone and who knows when she'll be back to deliver a letter. Number two, if Voldemort really is here you'll just have to fight him to your last breath (what else can I do?). Number three, you could still be dreaming. He pinched himself. It hurt. Scratch number three. Number four, Voldemort might not be anywhere near here and you're having a panic attack over nothing.

He climbed onto the floor and crawled to the window, lifting the bottom of the shade slowly, his stomach cold with dread.

Something moved in the bush across the street. Nothing to worry about, probably a dog or something. A bush moved farther down the street. He strained his eyes in the dark, glasses pressed against the glass. Two figures walked slowly down the street, covered from head to foot in black. He looked to the other side. Two figures approached from that direction. Across the street, one stepped out from behind a trash can four houses down. Another appeared from the shadow between the houses two doors down.

Harry slid to the floor holding back a groan. This can't be happening, it can't! Barely restrained hysteria rose in him. Come on, he told himself, you're quick on your feet - think! His eyes lit up. Quick - that's it!

He quickly crawled to his chest and silently opened it. He put his wand into it and whispered "Lumos!" There among the cloaks and owl feed and books lay his Firebolt. He had out dodged the Death Eaters before with a broken leg. He had out dodged a dragon. He could be out of town before they even reached the front door.

But then he heard a small cry downstairs.

June and Llian!

------

Llian still couldn't sleep. He slipped out from under the blanket and tucked June back in. He kissed her on the forehead. She murmured in her sleep and curled into a ball.

He went to the bathroom, leaving the light off and the door open. June often chastised him for this - he had a tendency to do this during the day and sometimes June would walk in on him.

"Oh, come on," he would say. "It's just us two; no one else is going to see me." He figured it was just a girl thing to be so concerned about privacy. She always locked the bathroom door when she bathed. He'd plead, "Open up - I have to pee!" but she'd emphatically refuse him entrance.

He argued, "I'm not gonna look at you. For goodness sakes, you're my sister."

She wouldn't budge. Definitely a girl thing.

June was squeamish with a lot of things. She'd only write with her back to a wall for fear of someone looking over her shoulder. She wouldn't brush her teeth in a public bathroom. But then again, June wasn't exactly normal, even when at her best.

Once June had actually defended her obsessive need for privacy. "Knowledge equals power," she explained. "And privacy equal withholding knowledge. So privacy is power." That's June logic for you.

Llian wandered into the kitchen and poured himself a glass of water. He realized he was ravenous. He hated to eat any of Harry's food without asking permission, but he finally reasoned that a cracker or two couldn't hurt. He went into the pantry and squinted in the darkness. He sipped his water as he let his eyes glance through the empty room. He saw a can of peanuts in the corner. June liked peanuts more than Llian did, but he decided to try some. He walked back into the kitchen, shoving a handful of peanuts in his mouth. He froze.

The back door was open.

He wondered who had gone out. He looked out the window and nearly dropped both his nuts and the glass.

There were two men climbing over the fence. He had no clue what was going on, but he had seen enough horror movies to know that this was not a good thing. He ran and skidded to the back door and triple-bolted it shut with magic. Then he glanced down and saw the muddy boot prints leading into the living room.

June!

He hurried down the hall and burst into the living room. He saw the man before the man saw him. .

Draped from head to foot in dark cloth, the man hovered over the sleeping June. Before Llian could move the man grabbed June, covering her head and arms with the blanket. Her muffled cry was loud in the still night.

------

Harry sprinted down the stairs. He wondered why he didn't just fly away. It was him they were after. But he knew his friends would be shown no mercy - Cedric surely wasn't. Yet he didn't know of any way to stop them. One fifteen-year-old boy against at least eight fully grown ruthless men and women?

But he couldn't live his life at the expense of his friends.

Friends?

He was sprinting but he still had five more steps to go. Yes, they were his friends. He marveled at how quickly they had come to mean something to him.

He was in midair, jumping from the third step to the parlor when the front door ahead shattered into a million pieces. He was thrown back against the stairs. He heard an audible snap and felt the searing pain run through him, roaring so loudly it turned his vision white.

------

"No!" Llian shouted. He flung himself onto the man, causing June to fall from his grasp, banging her head on the coffee table as she fell. They wrestled on the floor. Llian could barely see. He grasped at the loose cloak covering the man, trying to get a firm grip. An elbow hit him straight in the nose. He started swinging his arms at the man underneath him as if he were a punching bag.

June, still disoriented, grabbed a small shovel from the fireplace and Llian moved aside just in time as she swung it down to hit the man squarely in the face. The blow knocked him out.

"Who is he?" she gasped.

"Who are they?" he corrected. "There are two more out back." They heard Harry start to run down the stairs.

"One each?" June asked, pulling a wicked looking stick from besides the fireplace. Llian admired her uncanny ability to find deadly weapons in common household items.

"Sounds good," Llian agreed.

"Quack!" June hurled the stick like a javelin straight at Llian's face. He hit the floor, instantly recognizing their twin-talk for 'duck'.

Right after the stick passed over his head the house shook as the front door was shattered. They were both thrown across the floor by the impact. Llian jumped back to his feet and tripped over the man who had been behind him. He now had a metal stick entering and exiting from both sides of his head. Blood gushed out onto the floor. Llian starred, sickened yet fascinated. He had never seen anyone die before.

June had.

He didn't see the next man behind him. A vase crashed onto his head. He didn't feel a thing out cold on the floor.

------

June scrapped her head on the fireplace when she fell. She wasn't sure what was going on. She had just killed a man. Her head seemed to be turning in every direction at once. She stood in time to see the vase hit Llian.

"Llian!" she screamed. She rushed towards him, but was met with a blast of magic from the man behind him.

She hit the wall, knocking down several pictures which fell to the floor in a heap with her. She tried to climb to her feet, holding on to a chair, but she was too slow. A hard boot kicked her chin and she fell sideways onto the floor. Her hand dropped on a pillow from their earlier care-free pillow fight. She threw it in his face and turned the grab the umbrella she had spotted out the corner of her eye. She stumbled towards it, wondering which of the three floating before her she should reach for. Strong, beefy arms wrapped around her from behind and lifted her off the ground, one hand purposely over her breast.

She whimpered, seeing more men come into the room, throwing a semi-conscious Harry onto the floor before them. The hand on her chest rose high enough for her to reach it. She bit hard.

She was in the air again before she knew it, this time hitting and cracking the mirror above the fireplace. Seven years bad luck, she thought as she fell. That was about the last thing she needed right now.

The men came towards her as one. She threw up her arms, blasting many of them backwards and several onto the floor with her magic.

"This one has spirit," drawled a man standing behind the others. They moved back respectfully as he approached her. This is the one directing the others, she told herself. She thought coldly, I must kill him. It was becoming apparent that this would be a fight to the death. Probably hers.

Years of bitter hopelessness flashed by her eyes. Bloody razors, a stricken Llian, the stained red floor. Wanting to die. She knew now it would never be quite the same. She was filled with an intense fervor that had been missing from most of her life. For the first time, she wanted to live.

"We'll fix that," the man continued, stepping in front of the others. She drew her arms up but his hex hit her first. She was knocked off her feet. The wall shattered behind her and she fell among the fragments into the front lawn.

She lay there, dazed. I can't breathe, she though. She saw feet coming closer, gathering at her head. How many feet? Too many! She started to black out. Breathe, breathe! She screamed silently.

She remembered races she'd run before, wanting to give up hope of the finish line that was too far head. Somehow she'd have to find that burst of energy deep inside to push her to the end, coming somewhere from deep in her stomach. She willed it to come now to revitalize her paralyzed lungs.

They heaved, filling with oxygen. She gulped it down like water. She was vaguely aware of the several pairs of feet standing by her head.

"Bastards!" Her voice was surprisingly strong. She hadn't known she was talking out loud until she heard herself. "I'll get you!"

She heard an icy laugh as hands reached down and started dragging her backwards through the rubble by her hair.


	4. The Fight

Fight

------

Harry tasted blood. He rolled onto his stomach and spit. The dribble from his mouth glinted red in the dim light from the street. There was a sharp pain in his chest every time he breathed. When he climbed to his knees a foot promptly connected with his stomach.

Llian, who had been lying on the floor across the room from Harry, suddenly sprang into the air and onto a Death Eater's back. His hands tore at the man's throat. The man threw Llian over his head and into the arms of the waiting Death Eaters. They spun him around between them, kicking and punching him until blood ran into his eyes and down his chin.

Harry grabbed onto the couch, trying to stay on his knees without falling over. He reached with one hand on the floor for his wand. He had no idea where it was, or how he would use it if he did. He knew one thing: he wanted revenge.

It ran through his blood like a sickness. He had wanted to hurt Black when he thought him guilty of his parent's death. This was different. He wanted to kill. He wanted to hurt them. These were the people who had wanted his parents dead. These were the people who had torn apart so many families, caused so much suffering and anguish. These were the people who caused Neville to lie awake at night. These were the people who would laugh at Cedric's death.

Their own death ceased to have meaning for Harry. He wanted blood.

A sharp boot kicked the side of his head. Several cracks formed on the left side of his glasses when he fell over to the floor. A foot pressed down hard onto his stomach. He felt his wand in his pajama pocket over his chest. "Looking for something," a cold voice said above him. Harry seethed with recognition.

"How could it slip past your dull brain that you won't get away with this, Mr. Malfoy?"

"I don't expect you to live long enough to worry about that, Potter."

"The Ministry can tell when magic is done in this house. They'll be here any second now. Dumbledore will fry your ass!"

The cloaked figure looked around. "My, my they seem to be a bit late, don't they? Pity they won't arrive in time to save their precious boy-hero. Harry Potter, saint. Harry Potter, martyr. It has a nice ring to it, don't you agree?" He grabbed Harry by the front of his pajamas and pinned him against the wall. "We put a shield around the entire neighborhood. No magic can be sensed. That, unfortunately, leaves you in a very precarious situation my dear, dear boy."

"The Muggle neighbors will call the police. The Ministry will hear of it and suspect -"

"Harry, Harry. And here I was taking you for an intelligent young man. The only thing the Ministry" -- (he said it like it was a dirty diaper) -- "is good at is stealing money from honest men like myself and licking its wounds like a pitiful - argh!"

Harry kicked him in the crotch and was promptly dropped.

"Crucio!" Malfoy aimed his wand right at Harry. Pain tore through Harry's body. Malfoy leaned down and whispered into Harry's ear, "Know this, my boy. You will die tonight. I will personally see to it that you are in so much pain before you do that you wish you were never born." His knee went on Harry's chest as he grabbed his hand. Harry grimaced when he herd the crunch his finger made as Malfoy broke it. "Are we understood?" He slowly broke another. Tears gathered at the edge of Harry's eyes; his lips were pulled back in a snarl. "You will wish you had died with your parents fourteen years ago." Another crunch. "But you don't need to suffer, Harry." Crunch - the pain intensified. "Say that you're wrong, that you'll join the Dark Lord. Swear allegiance and we will show mercy on you."

"Never," Harry croaked.

"Tsk, tsk. Your parents were foolish, too. Can you help it that all three of you choose the wrong side?" He took Harry's thumb and pulled out, farther and farther until it popped. Harry involuntarily let out a yelp as Malfoy bent his thumb backwards and then twisted it.

"Fine, kill me, do whatever you want," Harry struggled to talk. The knee pressed harder, cutting into his lungs. "But let those two go."

Malfoy threw his head back and laughed. He addressed the Death Eaters watching as he rose to his feet. "Did you hear that?" he shrieked with laughter. "This boy welcomes Death as long as we let his little friends go. We'll let them go all right - go first to their graves!"

No! June, Harry cried silently. Llian! He rose unsteadily to his feet and rammed into a laughing Death Eater. Another threw a ball of fire at Harry but it hit the man he had run into. The unlucky Deatheater clawed at himself as he burnt to death.

"Imperius!" another shouted at him. Harry responded by clopping him hard against the jaw. Then there was a suspended moment when Harry lost all feeling - he hadn't felt the blast hit him until he landed in the front lawn. He saw a man hold June's arms as a woman carved symbols and words onto her skin with a knife. She was covered in blood.

Llian was being hung in the air upside down. They traded off trying to charm him into doing unusual flips and spins. Llian flailed his arms uselessly and hurled obscene invectives at his tormentors. It just made them laugh harder.

I can't believe it, Harry thought. They're actually enjoying this - are they even human? Did Snape enjoy his time as a Death Eater this much? He tried to picture the professor, eyes full of glee, laughing as he tortured innocent muggles. Strangely, as much as he hated Snape, he couldn't quite picture it.

"Harry has expressly given his dying wish that his friend go first," Malfoy announced. "Considering the circumstances, we should be only too happy to oblige." They all guffawed, even the ones that had already heard him say that. "Why don't we start with the girl?"

They threw June in the middle of the lawn. She crouched, ready to spring an attack on the first to come within range.

"Still fighting? We have a quick cure for little girls like you." Malfoy motioned.

Dutifully, several men sprang onto June at once. They knocked her back and forth. One tore off her shirt.

"NO!" Harry lunged to his feet and was pinned down by several Death Eaters.

"Don't you want to watch the show?" one whispered in his ear. He couldn't move.

Even with several men, June managed to push them away, shaking herself free of their grasping hands. But finally she tripped and they piled on top of her. It took four of them to hold her down. One stood in front of her and exposed himself.

"Scared, girl? You should be," he told her.

June cursed him.

He laughed and started to lower himself onto her. She squirmed against her restraints but couldn't get away.

Harry couldn't let them hurt her - he couldn't!

Suddenly the man in front of June fell backwards. He sat there stunned as June emitted soft carmine light. The men holding her let go in shock. Harry gaped at June - it was the same color from his dream.

June lifted off the ground and hovered like some glorious angel of death. Harry could see from the street light that her lips, nails, and hair had turned carmine. And her eyes, those eyes!

More men stepped forward. Harry fell to the ground the same time as Llian when the men holding them stepped forward to help.

"What are you doing?" Malfoy was beside himself. "I don't care what color she is! It's just one stupid little girl!"

They were beginning to think that she wasn't.

She floated higher; Harry could see her face above the ring of men. Where before it had been full of rage and determination, it was now oddly calm. She doubled over, her head lowered to her chest. Harry worried that she was falling but then saw the wings emerging from her shoulder blades. They seemed to magically grow out of the skin itself. They were the same color as in the dream. Harry thought they were the most beautiful wings he had ever seen. They were leathery with a talon at each tip, like a dragon's. They pulsed with the carmine light.

"Let's get out of here," Llian whispered. No one was watching them.

Harry starred at him in disbelief. "You'd leave your own sister behind?"

"No, it's not that!" he whispered urgently. "I'm trying to save your life, you fool. I can't stop her when she's like this - no one can. She's liable to kill us both long with them if we don't get out of here."

Harry's reasoning told him not to listen, but his instincts told him otherwise. The air was thick was magic, like a bomb ready to explode. He looked back at June's calm eyes and shuddered. He was going to have to trust Llian.

They had limped and stumbled close to half a block when they heard the screaming start behind them. Harry froze - it was a scream of terror, of uninhibited fear.

"Don't turn around! Keep moving!" Llian urged.

Harry kept staggering forward, but looked over his shoulder at Number Four Privet Drive. The light was slashing through the first ring of men. It was literally tearing them to shreds. Skin and meat and blood flew everywhere. Harry wanted to laugh and cry at the same time.

"June," he fell to his knees and moaned. "Oh, my God, June!"

"Get up!" Llian pulled him harshly.

"Not June," Harry hung limply from Llian's grip onto the ground. "Please, not June. Don't make her have to do this! Don't make her -"

Llian slapped him. Harry's senses came back in focus. The light had ripped through most the Death Eaters that had not apparated or run away and was now coming dangerously close to where the two boys stood.

They broke into a limping run, not looking back for anything. They were two blocks away when the explosion knocked them from their feet.

------

A/N: Belive it or not, but it's really hard to hurt your own characters. So why do I keep on doing it again and again?


	5. Aftermath

Aftermath

------

Harry whirled and tumbled in a dark void. Loud torrents of sounds and sensations roared past him, as if he were in a train going super fast through a strange,ethereal tunnel. Suddenly he felt something hard under his back. He was lying down on something hard. What? His hand felt it. Its texture was like that of concrete. Why was he lying on concrete?

He opened his eyes and sat up. There was noise and people everywhere, everything running past him blurred. What was going on? Did he faint during a Quidditch match again? Is that why his veins were like ice?

"Harry!" someone crouched close to him. "Are you okay?" They put their arms around him, supporting him.

"I - I can't see," Harry said lamely.

"Reparo," the voice next to him fixed his glasses and handed them to him. It was Arthur Weasley, his face pale in fear. "Maybe you should lie back down?"

"No, I'm fine," Harry insisted. Breathing heavily, he pulled himself painfully to his feet. His head hurt, his chest hurt, his hand hurt - everything was on fire. "What happened?" The world dipped woozily for a second. Then he turned around.

The scene before him was breathtaking in its horror. The block surrounding his Uncle's house was completely destroyed. Small fires still burnt unnoticed in piles of rubble. Wizards and witches of all sizes were running around everywhere.

"June! Llian!" Harry started running back but Mr. Weasley restrained him. "My friends are back there - let go! June, she's in trouble! The Death Eaters attacked my house! And June was in my dream! I should have told you--" Harry was precariously near hysteria. Harry tried to struggle harded but his body refused to respond. Tears smarted at the corners of his eyes.

"It's going to be okay, Harry," a familiar voice said behind him. Harry turned to find Dumbledore, looking considerably ruffled but still with the aura of calm dignity he always held. "Your two friends are perfectly safe and being cared for as we speak. Although the evidence is in rough shape, we were able to determine that there was an attack by a considerably number of Death Eaters. The point now in debate is the exact nature of the counter-attack." Dumbledore looked over the rubble and sighed.

"It was June - she had to do it! There were too many of them, they - we couldn't fight all of them - oww!" Mr. Weasley had grabbed Harry's left hand in an effort the comfort him.

Mr. Weasley' eyes went wide as he saw the shape Harry's hand was in as it lay on his palm. Cornelius Fudge, who had just run over, followed his gaze. "Good Lord, Harry! What on earth happened to your hand?" he exclaimed.

Harry starred at Fudge. What was wrong with him? "A Death Eater by the name of Lucius Malfoy broke my fingers," he replied evenly. "One by one."

Fudge gulped. "Now, now, we haven't completely determined what happened yet."

Harry lost it. "I'm telling you what happened! Death Eaters attacked my house - it made my scar hurt! They tossed us around like rag dolls and ruined the Dudley's house! They tried to rape June!" With each sentence he drew closer and closer to Fudge, who backed away, his face hesitating between fear and horror and anger.

"Yes, yes - but I don't see any need to assume that You-Know-Who was involved," Fudge said, looking pointedly at the slowly swarming reporters.

Harry suddenly felt very tired. He didn't want to deal with this. "Then who exactly do you think sent them?" He didn't care anymore. None of this mattered.

"Well, tell me this: even once during this alleged attack was his name even mentioned?" Fudge demanded.

"Who?" He found the conversation difficult to follow.

"He-Who-Must-Not-Be-Named!"

"You mean Voldemort?" Harry felt so sick he was starting to sway. Mr. Weasley put his hands firmly on Harry's arms to steady him. Harry thought hard. "No," he finally answered. "They never said his name."

"You see?" Fudge announced happily.

"The evidence is against you Cornelius," Dumbledore said hotly. "How do you explain the remains of over a dozen Death Eaters?"

"Well-"

"It doesn't matter," Harry broke in trying to explain his new insight to them. "Nothing matters. They're my friends; I want you to let them go. Please! You didn't care when Cedric died. You laughed. . .I can't picture it." Harry's vision swam. "I think I need to lie down."

He realized he was being carried on a stretcher. He was vaguely aware of hands examining him. He saw numerous mediwitches hovering above him. Some one wrapped something tight around his chest and put something firm around his left hand. Another person murmured about a possible concussion. More hands examined him. Voices swelled and faded in volume like a broken radio. He heard people talking nearby.

". . .aren't that serious, I think it would be best to stay with you to heal. Molly can look after him."

"But is it safe?"

". . .I am not referring to his physical injuries."

Then he was moving again, walking as someone led him through the fog around him and opened a car door that materialized before him. "In you go," a kind voice said as gentle hands helped him in. More whispered conversation followed, and then the voice announced, "I'll be back once he's settled in. Molly must be beside herself with worry by now."

A car started and then he was swaying with the gentle rocking motions of the car. He leaned his head against the window and watched the road pass by. He watched the sun rise.

It was late morning, almost lunchtime when they pulled up to The Burrow. The house looked as dilapidated as ever, but to Harry it looked open and welcome. "Home," Harry said quietly to himself.

Mr. Weasley, who had stopped the car, turned around and asked, "Are you going to be okay?"

Harry stared at him. He saw the balding man in front of him and yet he didn't. The world was suddenly split. Finally he conceded, "I'm tired."

"Of course." Mr. Weasley helped him out of the car.

When they entered the house Harry was attacked by six Weasleys. There was not a dry eye among them. They stared at him as if they couldn't believe their eyes.

"Harry!" Mrs. Weasley hugged Harry tight, rocking him back and forth like a little child. She loosened her grip when he involuntarily gave out a cry and held his ribs. "We were so worried about you! We thought-"

When she finally let go, Harry turned to Ron. His friend's eyes were now as red as his hair. Ron mouthed words speechlessly until he finally threw his arms around Harry and cried, "I thought I'd never see you again!" He tried unsuccessfully to glare at Harry. "Don't you ever do that again!" he added.

Ginny put aside her shyness to kiss Harry's cheek and give him a quick, small hug. The twins put their arms around him in a brotherly embrace and Billy ruffled his hair.

"Percy would be here, but he's working overtime at the Ministry," Mrs. Weasley explained. She paused, looking at Harry to see if she'd said the wrong thing. His blank eyes looked back at her. "Charlie's still in Romania (he's not good at Apparating long distances, never quite got the hang of it), but Hermione should be here any minute."

A car pulled up just as she said that, and a flustered Hermione jumped out before it even stopped moving. Harry started seeing bright lights at the edge of his vision. Everything felt so unreal. He needed to see June.

Hermione, who was bawling openly, immediately threw her arms around Harry. "Oh, Harry!" she cried. "Harry."

She pulled away from him and they all looked at him as if they were expecting him to make a speech. What do they want from me, he wondered. Now that you're all finished congratulating me for staying alive for one more summer. . .it doesn't matter. They tried to rape June. Why are you starring at me? How could they make her do that? Not June. I should have learned more from the dream. . .the green eyes.

The words wouldn't come out the way he wanted them. He couldn't explain. He realized he had been talking out loud. He looked up; everyone looked horrified. Why did they look so scared? He didn't understand so he simply said, "I'm tired" and was rushed quickly to a room.

He traced a crack in the wall next to the bed with his finger over and over. He couldn't fall asleep.

------

Wormtail cringed as he told the Dark Lord news of that night's attack. He could barely make out the dark form sitting in the chair before him. The only part he could see clearly was what he wanted to see the least: those red eyes.

"Two entire blocks were completely destroyed, and four more sustained minor damage. The girl is the one given credit," he tried to force his quivering voice to recite the dreadful account mechanically.

"And how long did it take the Ministry to react?" Lord Voldemort asked.

"Messages were sent to Aurors less than five minutes after the attack. Ten minutes later a substantial force Apparated at the edge of town - as close as they could to the shield."

"So they were there advancing as the attack was still taking place? How did they respond so quickly?" Voldemort stroked Nagini. He didn't seem to care that an attack had been completely ruined and an entire gang of Death Eaters destroyed. If anything, he seemed amused by the whole thing.

"It must be that damned Severus! We haven't managed to track down which Death Eaters he was able to turn spy for Dumbledore-"

"Fool," he whispered. Such was the disgust in his words that the man who had been Peter bowed so low that his pudgy nose hit the floor. "I sent those men with orders I had given that very night. I sent them in twos and threes directly there - no one had time to send messages. Besides, the mission was never intended to succeed."

"Never - what!"

"I wanted to test my little theory out on the Potter boy. I had to see for myself."

"What about the men who-"

"I sent only yellow-bellied fools that won't be missed. I considered this attack only as a learning experiment. Had it been carried out fully, I would have learned a great deal indeed."

Voldemort couldn't see that Wormtail's eyes had begun to water. All those lives lost! And for what? Wormtail trembled. "What did we learn?" he managed to squeak.

Voldemort looked coldly at the man bowing pitifully before him. He answered casually, "That Dumbledore has much invested in this boy."

"But, my Lord, we already know of the prophecy Trelawney made almost fifteen years ago - that's why you went after the Potters in-"

"No, I am referring to a different kind of investment. A personal investment. Well, I too have my investments."

"But we can still win, can't we? Harry is good as unprotected at the Weasley's because Dumbledore is under the impression that we won't attack again. Now is the time to strike!"

"Dumbledore is right."

"But, my Lord-"

"I have other ways of dealing with Harry Potter - and the girl. She was great find. Why kill someone when you can use them, Wormtail? Not unlike your own situation," he said with a smile.

Wormtail shuddered but managed to politely nod back. "What do you have in mind, my Lord?"

The menacing shape before him was still in the darkness.

"Have you been reading the newspaper lately?"

"Well-"

"Do not presume to speak to me until I allow you to." Wormtail jumped in shock at his master's sudden mood swing. It was expected, but it still frightened him every time he did it. "I recall an article written at the end of last ear that has since become of great interest to me - or of great inspiration, you might say. It was written by a Miss Rita Skeeter about a certain Harry Potter. Her article must have seemed far-fetched at the time, but now it has a certain, how should I say it, poetic justice to it. Destroying Harry at this point would be a waste."

"How-"

"Crucio!" He waited until the man rolling on the ground stopped crying. "I have warned you to censor addressing me openly. Why destroy Harry when we can let the boy destroy himself?"

Wormtail gulped.

The cold voice added, "With a little help, of course, from a certain agent."

"What would you have us do about the other two?"

"Nothing. The boy is of no consequence and girl will be easily destroyed."

"Attacking Hogwarts will be a difficult maneuver-"

"Do you think me a moron? Why waste my resources when the Ministry will end up inadvertently destroying her anyway? Those fools - observe how useful your enemy can be at times, that they would kill one of their own resources." He chuckled. Turning to Wormtail he said, "Are you still here? You have work to do - go!"

After the small man had scrambled away, Voldemort pulled out a clipping from a newspaper and reread it, a smile on his thin lips. The headline was barely readable from the moonlight spilling in through one small dusty window: Harry Potter "Disturbed and Dangerous."

------

She was surrounded by ice. It confined her breathing. Her lungs ached with the cold. Her fingertips exhaled fire. One moment she was dancing on the water - a flower petal blown by the wind. The next she was engulfed in a suffocating blackness.

Voices passed by, hands touched her; coldness was put over her arms and legs that stung like hot coals. The shouting passed and was replaced by the whispers. She thought she heard Llian, far away and frightened. She heard another voice, deep and silky, leaning close. But they all left her with the oppressive silence.

She wondered how long she had been lying here. She had stared at it blankly until she finally realized the thing she was lying on was called a bed. Her eyes were gummy slits; they refused to focus and the bed swam up and down lazily, now on the ceiling, now on the floor where it belonged.

She must have been asleep, so she guessed she was awake now. Her vision sharpened suddenly, as if someone had held it just above her head until dropping it on her. She often felt the same way about dreams - like some one gave her a glimpse and then quickly stuffed it into their pocket.

The bed she was sleeping on was large - larger than any she had slept on all her life. It was soft enough for her to sink into it like quicksand. She wondered dimly if she would fall completely into it. Movement at the end of the bed caught her attention.

A man was sitting there, someone she had seen before, maybe in a dream. He looked just like Llian! She wanted to prop herself up on her elbow and tell him this, but all she could even twitch was her toes.

He studied her thoughtfully. She hated for people to watch her sleeping - she couldn't stand when people watched her in general. But his presence was somehow reassuring.

She wondered what was on her forehead. She tried to look, but it hurt her eyes to go that far back. She found it was some sort of cloth when the man dipped it in cool water and replaced it back on her forehead. Cool cloth on her forehead - it brought back memories of former sickness, the fainting spells, the nausea, but always the faces pressed close and damp cloth on her forehead.

"June?" he murmured. His voice was deep and smooth. I must be sick, she thought. He wouldn't be talking so quietly is I weren't sick. "You need to rest. I've made some Dreamless Sleep Potion for you, and I want you to drink it."

She nodded. She wanted to kiss him. He understood - somehow he knew about the dreams and he made a potion just for her. He knew how the dreams were an agony - how sometimes she'd rather be dead than face another night of incessant dreams. She felt love for this strange man.

He sat next to her and helped her sit up enough to drink the potion. As she lay there, waiting for dizziness to overcome her, he gently stroked her hair. She watched the fog close in on his stern face. She was glad she wasn't alone. She was terribly tired. He watched over her in silence as she slipped into a deep, dreamless sleep.


	6. Llian's Story

Llian's Story

------

"Ah, Llian - I'm glad to see you up and about. I trust Poppy has oiled and fine-tuned you. Why don't you sit down," Dumbledore said, graciously offering a plump, thick-cushioned chair. "I hope you have eaten already? Good. How is your sister today? Professor Snape assures me she is slowly regaining her strength."

"She is better," Llian admitted. Visiting his sister had made him both relieved and utterly frustrated. "She was awake this morning, but she couldn't talk much, and her eyes didn't always focus. She doesn't always understand what's going on around her, I think."

"Yes, I can see that this upsets you. I won't lie to you Llian - your sister is gravely ill," Dumbledore admitted. "What she did last week saved your lives, but at a terrible cost to herself. She was pushed, I daresay, to the very limits of her physical, magical, and emotional abilities. It will take her time to recover all three." He leaned back and clasped his hands together. "Your sister will recover; I believe she is a fighter. But we must be patient."

There was a knock on the door.

"Come in!" called Dumbledore cheerfully.

Professor Snape poked in his head. He glanced down his long nose uncomfortably at the boy who appeared to be a clone of himself. "Headmaster, I believe you wanted me?"

"Yes," he replied. "Now that Llian is recovered, I believe it is time for the three of us to have a friendly chat." He turned to Llian. "I would be very interested to hear your story, and I'm certain Severus would too."

"But, Harry and I have both already told you what happened -"

"No, you misunderstand me. I want to hear your story."

"But - oh, I see. Where would you like me to start?" he asked, clearing his throat nervously.

"I suppose the best place would be at the beginning."

"I guess my - our story really starts before the beginning - I mean, with our mom - well, with our people. Our mother was a full-blooded Volari by the name of Ava. They're closely related to the Veela in the northern regions, but different in several important aspects. They can be as fierce as the Veela, but usually only when on the defensive - they aren't as aggressive and advocate peace over fighting. The Volari, it is said, used to have their own land back in Dreamtime, but somehow they were driven off by mankind. The humanoid, winged magical creatures became nomadic, and have been as long as anyone can remember. They say that when the Dreamtime comes back again, they'll find their land. Well, that's not likely to happen, as they're mostly extinct now, but there are small groups that fly between islands around Australia and some (so I've heard) around the southern parts of Africa. Traditionally, Volari kept to themselves, mostly remaining hidden from man. It's not a law that they don't meddle in human affairs, but a strong custom.

"This all changed when Voldemort came to power. Voldemort tried to capture several Volari, to use their powers, but Volari can't and won't survive in captivity. He killed many, human and Vola alike. It was finally becoming clear that old customs wouldn't hold in the face of Voldemort's threat to the Volarian way of life. So finally they decided that they'd rather face death by confronting the enemy than become extinct through cowardice. A group of the stronger and younger Volari started making their way to Britain, where Voldemort's seat of power was said to be, to help the British ministry. They never made it."

Snape's face was impassive.

"My mother was in that group. She was only fifteen at the time, but the Volari allowed her to go because she was the Haran. After a certain number of Volari births a Haran will be born - one who is both a Seer and a Maker. They're very powerful, but my mother's powers were mainly manifested in Seeing. They're naturally expected to do great things for the future of the Volari.

"Death Eaters overwhelmed the group on their way there. The entire group was massacred, except for our mother. We retrieved her journals from the orphanage where she left them, but we're not really sure what happened, except that that's where she became pregnant. I don't know if she was raped or..."

Snape became unnaturally still.

"We don't know what happened; but her journals were strange on this point: she writes that she loved him, whoever it was, but that doesn't make sense because she couldn't have met him beforehand." Snape huffed at the word "loved," but when Llian paused the professor inclined his head, beckoning the boy to continue.

Llian sighed. "The Volari were horrified. They went back to their ways of ignoring mankind, running away whenever involvement was likely to occur. Our mother died during childbirth - all we have left of her is her extensive journals. She wrote prolifically, just about every vision and event that happened to her since she was eleven. We've both read them through hundred of times.

"Anyway, because of who our father was, the Volari community pretty much decided unanimously they didn't want us. The orphanage for wizards and witches in the area was very backwards - it didn't accept magical creatures of any kind. So we were put in a Muggle orphanage, the reasoning being that with no one there to teach us we wouldn't learn any magic. Unfortunately, when we were one year old we were separated. I was adopted, but June wasn't. I was adopted several times, actually, but let's just say that it didn't quite work out. I met a few witches and wizards along the way who helped me learn to control my magic along, but they soon became scared that I was learning too much and stopped teaching me. When I was ten, I saw my papers and was surprised that I had a sister.

"I left then. I guess ran away would be a more appropriate term, but I was sick of it all, and desperate for the companionship of someone who was like myself. It took a bit of tracking. There's this stupid thing about records being confidential, and I, uh, had to pull a few strings, so to speak. Anyway, I managed to track June down in Sydney. We both set out on our own. We lived in all kinds of places: hostels, motels, apartments, dorms. A lot of times we simply camped out in the woods. We made money doing odd jobs, de-gnoming people's gardens and being camp counselors over the summer and life-guards, although June's not really a strong swimmer. When we were in our teens, June sometimes sang in restaurants or played her lute or harp for people who like that sort of thing.

"We didn't originally intend to travel. There was a large school of witchcraft and wizardry in Sydney, but they wouldn't accept us. So we traveled between several smaller schools that were more lenient and would let us audit classes. We also hired private tutors, which was rarer because they were usually more expensive. Mostly we learned on our own by sneaking into the school and Ministry libraries and digging through second- hand magic bookstores.

"Well, one day June came across an appraisal of Magical Schools throughout the world - that was what really got us going. We sent letters and traveled to visit several schools that seemed more likely to let us attend. Of course, no one would admit us outright, but quite a few allowed us to audit some of the beginning classes (we called ourselves non-students, which is probably closer to what they thought of us).

"You may wonder why we went through all this trouble. Yes, we do love to learn and June is quite an accomplished bookworm, but the Volari magic in us works differently than human. Humans go to school to learn to bring out their magic, but Volari need schooling to control it. Back when June was on her own. . .well, some unfortunate things happened. The Australian Ministry didn't understand that she needed to be taught so she could control her magic. But they refused to teach her precisely because they thought it dangerous to teach some one who has so little control. Plus she wasn't even human.

"It's ironic, I guess, that we're here at Hogwarts now - this was the next place we wanted to try. Originally we didn't even consider Hogwarts, but we figured a nationally ranked school wouldn't accept kids like us. We did hear rumors about a werewolf being a teacher a few years back, but we didn't believe them. But last year we found a newspaper article about Hogwarts hiring a half-giant! And refusing to fire him just because of what he was! We had been passing through Surrey when we ran into Harry.

"And I guess there's not really anything else to say."

Dumbledore looked at Llian thoughtfully. Snape studied the floor with great interest, a frown creasing his brow. Dumbledore asked, "And June?"

"June." Llian stammered. "Wh-What do you mean?" He shifted in his chair.

"Could you tell us the parts about June that you left out?" Dumbledore suggested. "I realize we are still strangers to you and that you are uncomfortable, but I think the more we know, the better we will be able to help her."

"What makes you think I left anything out?" Llian demanded.

Dumbledore sighed. "Although she saved your lives, June has done what a normal girl, even half-Vola, could not do. My own observations of the nature of Volari nature make it apparent that June's depth of power a week ago could only have relied on a great emotional instability."

Llian looked away. "My sister's problems are her own," he said stiffly.

Dumbledore was silent. He nodded and said, "Very well. However, I hope that if you do ever feel the need to talk that you do not hesitate to approach either me or Severus. Now, I asked Severus to join us, as he's a former Death Eater who turned spy for me at a great personal risk. Perhaps he can help us clear up the mystery of your parentage?"

Snape felt both their eyes on him. They all knew what he had to say. He gripped the arms of his chair and took a deep breath. "Voldemort told us to stop Volari participation. Had they made it to the British Ministry it would have paved the way for the participation of more magical creatures. It would be easier to destroy them separately." He looked away from Llian. "I remember the youngest girl, a teenager. It was. . .I remember apparating away and looking down from a cliff. I was so sick." He put his hands in front of his face as if praying, furrowing his brow as if he were physically ill. "I must be your father, I must be," he whispered.

Llian waited a beat before asking, "What happened?"

"What do you think happened, you stupid boy?" Snape snarled.

Llian nodded. He picked at the fuzz on his pant as he admitted, "I've always wanted to meet my father. I never dreamed I would."

"Are you happy now?" Snape's voice was harsh. "You can meet the man who killed your mother and who ruined your lives. Now you have someone to hate. I don't blame you."

The room was silent.

"I don't hate you," Llian said. "You tried to save our mother's life."

"What part of raping her was saving her life? Do you have any idea what happens to people to during a Death Eater's attack?"

"Yes," he replied. Snape twitched but was quiet. "Your account doesn't match with my mother's. Look, I don't really know what happened that day, because I don't think either one of you can give me a un-biased answer. But I don't hate you. You were supposed to kill the group to a man. Yet you let her go, risking severe punishment for disregarding orders. I can't hate you. If I were to pin blame that way, I'd have to hate myself and June as we were the ones that actually killed our mother. But you can't look at things in that way. It's complicated. In truth, I'm not completely sure what to think. I'll have to settle now for neutrality. Besides, I can't bring myself to despise someone who my sister has fallen in love with."

Snape guilt and anger with himself turned into shock that made his head swirl. "What are you talking about?" he demanded.

"And you're in love with her," Llian continued. Before Snape could stutter a reply Llian stood up and turned to Dumbledore. "So could I have a peek at this famous Hogwarts library?"

"Certainly," Dumbledore agreed. "I hear that you're particularly interested in the Goblin Rebellions of the thirteenth century?" They walked out the door together, leaving Snape alone with his thoughts.


	7. Father

Father

------

Sunlight slipped into the dim hall through the small cracks in the edges of the heavy shades that covered the ceiling-to-floor windows. Paintings and tapestries lined almost every inch of the walls, some of them picturing famous ancestors, other priceless works of art. Figurines and vases were arranged on the heavy wooden furniture throughout the room. Rare and expensive books peeked out from behind the glass in the bookcase. Although the room was kept sparkling clean, the dusty odor would not leave it.

The boy sat huddled in the corner, across the room from the broken mirror. A small bronze statue, thrown fiercely, now lay amidst the glass shards. He rocked back and forth, moaning hoarsely.

"I hate you, I hate you, I hate you, I hate you," he chanted slowly and methodically. His father never physically abused him, but his only son would have welcomed it. Any action that signified his father's awareness of having a son would have been embraced. Mostly his father pushed him away like he was a mosquito. It wasn't even that he had earned his father's displeasure; he simply wasn't worth consideration. He loved his father. He hated his father.

He shrieked and flung out his hands, shattering several vases as he knocked them aside. He started walking across the room to the door at the far end, but kneeled over and huddled against the wall half-way across. Several house-elves watched dispassionately from the hidden passageways behind pictures and furniture and planks of wood in the wall. They waited patiently for the young master to leave so they could open the windows and clean up the mess he was making.

"I hate you, I hate you," he whispered furiously.

He hated his mother, who had lain in bed for three days after his father's death and then started redecorating the house happily as if nothing had happened. She hummed to herself as she walked through the large halls of the manor, something he had never heard her do before.

He hated Lord Voldemort. The Dark Lord had sent his father to his death. His father had been one of his most loyal servants - why hadn't he been protected?

He hated Harry Potter. If Harry had died like he was supposed to his father would still be alive. If his father hadn't had to attack Harry, he would still be alive.

He hated the girl who had actually killed his father. He wanted to kill her. He wanted to see her skin tear as his father's had to hear her scream in agony.

He hated everyone.

But mostly, he hated himself.

He curled up in a ball on the floor and pressed his fists firmly into his eyes. He did something he had not done since he was two: he cried.

Draco Malfoy didn't know who to hate anymore.

------

Professor Snape walked through the silent halls of Hogwarts alone, listening to the steady click of his shoes on the stone floor. He had known Llian's story as soon as he had seen June. Those carmine eyes, open and blank on her pale face, and Llian kneeling besides her, a clone of himself. He had seen those carmine eyes, wide and frightened, on another teenager fifteen years ago.

He couldn't remember without shuddering. But then again, there were few memories he could recall without shuddering. He had been a dedicated Death Eater. Every person he killed, be it Muggle, wizard, infant or adult, was one step closer to the disintegration of the Ministry. He killed with a cold passion. He had little use for the torturous practices of his colleagues - he was there to do a job, and to do it quickly and efficiently. For many Death Eaters it was a party, a group orgy - for Severus, it was war. It hadn't mattered if he would have to kill thousands of children if they stood in the way. No matter what it took, with the Dark Lord in control, the Ministry would fall. The Ministry who had turned their backs on him, allowing him to be hurt repeatedly, allowing his brother to die.

Severus had known exactly what he was getting himself into eighteen years ago when he had the Mark burned onto his arm. He had known that many would die because of his work. He knew that he might be killed himself - a possibility he often looked forwards to, sometimes yearned for. The world was evil beyond redemption - he would bring salvation through destruction. It became his life's work, his motivation to wake up every morning, his reason to draw breath. Lord Voldemort was nothing more than an accessory, a being placed on the earth so that Severus could have his revenge. And oh, what a sweet revenge it had been.

Every bloodied face he walked past became his own. Every person that suffered at the hand of the Death Eaters became himself, suffering from another's hands many years ago. He would watch the blood that poured from the whip wounds and see a different whip on his own back and arms. Every pain he inflicted was retribution for the many thousands he had once received himself.

Severus was by nature a bitter man.

But one day, walking past the piles of massacred bodies, he realized that their faces were not his own. They were separate people, and he had taken their separateness from them - he had made them just another body, devoid of a soul. They were not even the people would had hurt him. Even killing the ones who had hurt him wouldn't change what had already happened. It wouldn't punish a man who was already dead. It wouldn't bring Orlando back to life. He had though it justly revenge - in the end, he had only been hurting people.

He was beyond sorrow or guilt the day he confessed to Dumbledore. He freely admitted the lives he had ruined and the destruction and chaos he had created. He dully offered Dumbledore his life or his service.

To this day, he wondered why Albus hadn't simply taken his life.

And so he became a double agent. His usual dispassionate aloofness guarded him against suspicion from the other Death Eaters. He had saved attacks of several strategic places, and handed over stolen maps and agendas to Dumbledore. He had warned of the danger in which sweet Lily's son had been placed, although this wasn't completely unexpected.

And then it had all ended.

Severus didn't remember what lame excuse Albus had given to hire him as the Potions Master for Hogwarts, but he knew the real reason: he wanted to keep an eye on him. They both knew that he was perfectly capable of avoiding vengeful action from former Death Eaters, had he the inclination, but Albus wanted to protect Severus from himself.

At first Dumbledore had put a powerful web around Severus. Whenever Severus tried to carry out an action with the intent to kill himself, he would be overcome with nausea. If Snape had been forced to cancel class, Dumbledore had always been there to visit, for he knew the true reason for Snape's illness. Those had been long years.

But the web had slowly disappeared. Sometimes, however, when Snape couldn't sleep at night he'd brew a potion for instant, painless death. When he was in a darker mood, a painful potion would come out of the cauldron. Once the all-consuming desire to die had abated, he would amuse himself by playing with the potions. He would consume a poison and count the seconds on his watch. When he had ten seconds left, he would take the antidote. He could now wait until less than two seconds. When he was in a mood, he would wait until directly after he heard the click of the last second. Student trembled in fear at the idea of his giving poison to them or their familiars during a class demonstration - they didn't realize that there was none of his ability when it came to antidotes.

He had been walking aimlessly, but now he stood in front of a door. He knew his feet would bring him here eventually. He turned the knob quietly in case she was sleeping.

Her bed was empty, but he saw light under the door of the bathroom. As June no longer required extensive medical attention, she was allowed to move into an empty professor's quarters. It didn't escape Severus's notice that her room was right down the hall from his own. Dumbledore is a devious man, he thought.

He knocked on the bathroom door.

"Come in," a small voice called.

She was submerged in bubbles, her two charcoal eyes peering out from a sea of white. Severus smiled. "Do you need anything?" he asked.

"I finished two more stories," she said, pointing to a notebook on the towel rack. He winced at the dark red slashes covering her arm. "Can you review them for me?"

Severus sat on the steps to the large bathtub and trailed a hand in the hot water by June's feet as he read. He became completely engrossed. He loved the feeling of her talking privately to him, her voice there on the page peering up curiously at the world. He looked up at June once. She was leaning against the wall, her head titled back with her eyes peacefully closed. He read on. He was almost done with the first story when she pulled the plug.

"Help me out," she asked.

He quickly put the notebook aside and wrapped a thick towel around the shivering girl. She could walk and sit up if she wasn't out of bed for too long, but it was still hard for her. He picked her up and gently carried to into the bedroom. He plopped her down on her bed, in reach of her nightgown, and retrieved the notebook to continue reading at the desk as she dressed. She pulled up a stool to the other end of the desk and started writing.

Llian burst into the room. He didn't seem surprised to see Professor Snape there. "Hey! Dumbledore says I can have some school brooms to go practice on the Quidditch field tomorrow," he announced happily. "You wanna come with me Professor?"

"I'm hardly an expert on a broom," he replied. Being alone with Llian would be awkward. He didn't know what to say to him.

"Oh, come one - it's no fun to fly by yourself. It'll be a great father- son bonding thing!" Severus was half embarrassed, half relieved that he spoke of their tenuous relationship so casually. "All you need to do is throw balls at me and I can practice dodging them - or catching them, depending on your aim."

The small grin that broke out on Severus's face quickly became unnatural feeling and was replaced by a more comfortable frown as he replied, "I would happy to accompany you."

"Great!" exclaimed Llian as he bounded out the room. He poked his head back in. "By the way, what should we call you? We can't keep calling you Professor, and Severus just wouldn't be right. Father is too formal sounding. Can we call you dad?"

Severus was taken aback. He was rather smitten with the two, but hadn't expected either one to want to have anything to do with him. "I - it - well, the -" Severus scrambled to think of a reply.

"What? Is it too American? We can call you Daddy!" Llian suggested. The boy was clearly milking it for all it was worth.

"We'll call him Papa," June declared.

And so the matter was settled.

When Severus finished the second story he saw that June had drifted off again, pencil in hand. June frequently would be eating or reading like normal and simply drift off. She would sit straight up with her eyes open, but her gaze would become unfocused. She didn't appear, at these times, to be aware of her surroundings. Llian had said that it wasn't uncommon for her to do so in the past, but only infrequently. He knew it had only been scarcely two weeks since the attack, but it still scared him. His arms became a mass of goose bumps.

"June?" he whispered.

Her gaze flickered but remained unfocused. "I'm tired," she whispered back. "So tired."

He pried the pencil out of her fingers and carried her back to her bed. She was warm and soft in his arms. She closed her eyes when he tucked her in. He sat watching the fall and rise of her chest. Listening to her breathing calmed him. He leaned down and kissed her forehead with his dry lips.

As he closed to door behind him, he heard her say quietly, "I love you, Papa."

His emotions churned inside of him as he rested his forehead on the closed wooden door. He wanted to run away and forget that he had ever met these children. They made him feel so frail and human; he always felt awkward and clumsy around them. He was unsure of what to say or do. It wasn't a feeling he was used to at all.

"I love you too," he whispered.

He turned and walked away.


	8. Harry's Gift

Harry's Gift

------

Harry was still awake.

Ron listened to Harry quietly walk over to the window and look out. They had shared Ron's bedroom for over two weeks now and Ron had yet to see him sleep even once. Harry stayed up reading until well past midnight. If Ron awoke in the middle of the night, he would find Harry still awake and silently playing Wizard's Solitaire or, more often, gazing out the window.

Ron heard his parents whispering together. Harry often went down to the living room in the middle of the night; when they followed him down they found him wide awake in front of the fireplace.

Ron closed his eyes and pretended to still be asleep as footsteps walked past his bed, out the door, and down the creaking stairs. Ron remembered the full bottle of sleeping potion his parents had given Harry. When they had woken up to check on him in the morning, they found an empty bottle in his unmade bed. He had guzzled the entire bottle down, but it didn't affect him an ounce.

Harry spent a lot of time starring into space. When the family started expressing concerns he started reading during all hours of the night as if he thought he was Hermione. Everyone relaxed slightly until they realized he was only starring at random pages. If his eyes actually focused on the book open in front of him, he would reread the same paragraph over and over. Observing Harry from across the room while beating Ginny at a chess game, Ron saw Harry reread the same page for nearly an hour.

It was painful to watch Harry fly. His Firebolt had been salvaged from the effects of the attack, as his trunk had been top-quality fire and magic proof, but his movements on the broom were sluggish and apathetic. He expressed no joy at playing a game of improv Quidditch with the Weasley brothers. His mind was constantly elsewhere.

What Ron was most disturbed about was Harry's privacy. Harry always told Ron everything: he had talked about his experience with the Death Eaters last year, his confrontation with Voldemort his first year at Hogwarts. But then Ron remembered the things Harry hadn't told him until pressed: his crush on Cho Chang, his life with the Dursleys as a muggle. Ron concluded that Harry must tell him everything or else nothing at all.

Harry never talked about the night of the Death Eater's attack. The entire family walked on eggshells around the subject. Harry didn't seem to notice.

Ron finally stood and tiptoed downstairs after Harry. He found his friend sitting in front of the empty fireplace, his back to the stairway where Ron stood. Ron's mouth dropped open. Harry was talking to himself.

"I know, June, it's okay. . .did he really?...you should send me that story. . .of course I'd like to read it. . .what! Are you crazy?...June, I don't think you should start running so soon. . .yes you were, remember you were bedridden just last week. . .really, that's overdoing it-"

Ron accidentally stepped in the middle of a squeaky board. He saw Harry's back stiffen as he immediately stopped talking.

"Uhm, Harry?" Ron cleared his throat nervously. "Are you okay?"

Harry turned around slowly. "You think I'm bonkers, don't you?" he asked. They stared at each other.

"Er - not exactly," he struggled to answer. "Okay, if you want to know the truth I have no idea what to think. Harry, you're my best friend; my parents consider you as part of the family. We tell each other everything. But now you're spending all your time by yourself alone and not eating and staying up all night and now you're talking to yourself in the middle of the night. What am I supposed to think?"

Harry chuckled softly.

"What?" Ron demanded.

"I was afraid you wouldn't believe me," Harry admitted. "You see, I wasn't talking to myself - I was talking to some one else."

Ron's eyes widened. It was even worse than he had thought. Was Harry having hallucinations?

"Her name is June," Harry continued. "How do I explain this to you? She's kind of a guide."

Ron gulped. His voice cracked as he asked, "Will she - I mean, does she, uh, ask you to do things for her?"

Harry was silent.

"What?" Ron asked nervously.

"You don't believe me," he whispered. "No one will believe me."

"Now, there's no reason to say that when you don't even completely believe yourself," a familiar voice said from the shadows of the dark kitchen. Dumbledore emerged with Sirius Black right behind him. "A certain Miss June believed it was time for me to pay you a visit. Perhaps it's convenient that you're here too, Ron."

Sirius hugged Harry, who was obviously happy to see him. Dumbledore sat down on the couch as Harry spilled out everything that had happened to his godfather, his strange dream and meeting the twins and the attack. Ron was startled at the level of violence of the attack as Harry gave Sirius a blow- by-blow account. He knew of the atrocities the Death Eaters committed, but they had always been vague second-hand accounts of people he didn't know, save for Harry's encounter last year where Cedric had been killed. Stupid git, going and getting himself killed. Ron wondered, not for the first time, what he would do in Harry's place.

Sirius, just by being there, had somehow opened up a well of emotion in Harry. Ron had never been so grateful for Sirius's presence.

"But then, when I woke up, everything was different," Harry continued. "The world split. I don't know how else to describe it. Sometimes I have to stare at things around me to see if they're real or not. It's confusing." Ron was bewildered, but Dumbledore merely nodded.

"This split, Harry, is a continuation, or expansion, of what started last summer (or perhaps even before). I couldn't speak to you until it happened because I wasn't completely sure," Dumbledore said.

"Do you think I'm crazy?" Harry asked.

Dumbledore smiled. "Except for that tiny spark of insanity that each of us has deep inside them, no. I think you are perfectly sane Harry. But the way you see the world will forever be altered - you have the Gift."

Ron thought he saw Sirius pale out the corner of his eye. He wondered what Dumbledore meant by that.

"What does that mean?" Harry asked, looking (if it was possible) almost as bewildered as Ron did.

"You are a Seer," Dumbledore said heavily. "And it is not an easy thing to be."

"No," Harry denied. "I've starred at crystal balls in Divination for hours - how can I have this Gift if I've never seen a single thing but fog?"

"Ah, but you have seen before," he explained. "Harry, what's your earliest memory at the Dursley's?"

Harry was confused by this strange line of questioning. He thought a moment before answering, "I guess the earliest thing I remember is having Dudley steal my peanut-butter sandwich when Aunt Petunia's back was turned. And the stupid games Dudley would play in the street with some kids a couple blocks away, which usually turned into a game of let's-chase-Harry- and-try-to-beat-him-up." Harry said this last part stiffly, as if afraid someone would accuse him of whining.

"And how old were you at the time?"

"Oh, I guess four. At the very earliest three, but probably around the time I turned four," Harry guessed.

"And how long have you remembered your parents' death?"

"Always - I mean, whenever I tried to look back I would see a flash of green light and hear laughter, but back then I thought I was remembering the car wreck the Dursleys had said they had died in."

Sirius scowled and mumbled to himself at his last bit, offended at the Dursely's injustice to his friends.

"So you can remember back until you were four, at the youngest three," Dumbledore stated. "Yet you remember your parents' death which happened when you were barely one year old?"

"You can hardly compare," interrupted Sirius, "peanut-butter sandwiches with a traumatic event like -"

"It's not a memory. At barely one year old, the human brain is not capable of storing long term memory," Dumbledore explained. "You have shown no other remarkable feats of memory. You have this memory of your parent's death because at some point in your life you were able to use your talent to See it."

Harry was quiet.

"What's more, the only other time Professor Trelawney has made a prediction was when she was close to someone with the Gift - perhaps their aura is able to enhance her own. She made her prediction two years ago when you were the only one in the room with her."

Harry still looked unconvinced.

"Have you had any other dreams that have been real, besides the ones you had last year of Voldemort?"

"No, most of my dreams are just jumbled nonsense. They don't even make sense. Like when I was ten I kept on having a dream about a flying motorcycle. I don't remember much about it," Harry said, remembering how it was a good, calming dream.

Sirius and Dumbledore glanced at each other.

"I used to have a flying motorcycle," Sirius said. "I lent it to Rubeus the night of your parent's death. He flew you across Britain to the Dursely's on it."

"Coincidence," Harry said quickly. "If I had a dream about a flying dust bin I'm sure you would find one from somewhere."

"Can you give us another example of your dreams that don't make sense?" Dumbledore's eyes twinkled as he spoke.

"Well.," he struggled to think of a completely harmless one relating only to events that had taken place at the time. "At the end of my third year when I was worried about winning the Quidditch Cup I had a nightmare that I had to fight an opposing team who was riding dragons."

"And the very next year, you found yourself on a broom above the Quidditch field fighting dragons!" Dumbledore said.

Harry struggled to think of an answer. "Fine - here's a dream that makes absolutely no sense whatsoever," Harry declared. He told them of his dream right before the Death Eater's attack that night about the Gryffindor common room and every one's strange behavior and the green eyes.

Dumbledore looked at Harry intently. "There is more truth in that dream than you can ever know," he said heavily.

"I don't count coincidences as -"

"Harry, you have managed to directly link your mind with a girl hundreds of miles away," Dumbledore stated. "If that isn't evidence enough by itself, I don't know what is. June has had the Gift, or at least been aware of it, longer than you, but neither of you have appropriate training. Perhaps we will address that later at Hogwarts during the school year." He rose to his feet. "It is time to go. I must ask you to carefully consider what I've told you tonight. I won't lie to you: at times the Gift will probably cause you great pain. It is extremely hard to understand and control it. It is not something to be taken lightly." He turned and smiled. "I have spoken with Arthur and he sees no problem with Sirius staying here - in dog shape, of course. I'm very sorry about this Harry - you've been through a lot, and the Gift is a terrible burden to add to it."

"Wait!" Harry exclaimed. "Why can't I sleep?"

"About that, there's nothing I can do for you. It will pass. June passes through weeks at a time where she cannot sleep following by more weeks in a coma-like state. You are both allowing the Gifts to take control. Yes, I think training is imperative for you both. Only then can you become a true Seer."

"But I don't want to be a Seer!"

Dumbledore paused in the kitchen doorway, half-way buried in the shadows. "There are many things that happen to each of us that we cannot control. It is not what we are given, but what we make out of what we are given that counts - always remember that Harry." He gave Harry a piercing look that made Ron wonder what was really meant by that last statement. Then Dumbledore turned and was gone.

"Well," said Ron to the silent company. "I'm going to bed."


	9. The Wand

(Disclaimer: I did not make up the name Llian - I have "borrowed" it from Ian Irvine's The Shadow in the Glass series. Other than being interested in history, the Llian in my story bears no relation to the Llian in his. The carmine eyes I "borrowed" from another character, who besides her eye color and close affinities with rocks, bears absolutely no relation to June. My interest in the whole strange-people-who-have-bird-like- characteristics is from Tad Williams' Otherland series. Volar to fly in Spanish, I'm guessing that's the same way Rowling came up with Veela, because vuela means flies. Thanks to alexgray for letting me know which house Hagrid was in!) 

9.The Wand

June and Llian both peered around the sides of the giant in front of them.

"Ollivander's. . .Maker of Fine Wands since 382 B.C." Llian read. He paused. "That's a pretty long time - Ollie must be a pretty old fart by now."

"Ollivander makes the best wands you'll like to find anywhere," a voice came from over two times their height above them. "Come on you two."

"But Hagrid, what if they refuse to sell us wands? We are technically prohibited by law from owning and using wands," said a worried June, shifting her backpack nervously.

"That's only the Vola half of yer," Hagrid brushed aside her worries with a wave of his huge hand. "But there ain't nothing restrictin' yet human half, is there now?" He walked into the store. The two siblings glanced at each other and apprehensively followed.

An old man watched them enter as if he had been waiting for them forever.

"Have two younguns here to buy thur first wands," Hagrid said.

"Ah, yes," Ollivander said. He examined the twins. "I remember when your father first nervously entered these doors to buy his wand. Dragon heartstring, beech, thirteen inches. A bit emotional, but strong." He turned to Llian. "Let me see your wand hand." Llian extended his left hand. "Hmm, I think I know just the wand for you."

"Try this one - unicorn hair, oak, twelve and an eighth inches."

Llian ended up trying several but none of them responded. He noticed June had an odd expression on her face.

"What's wrong?" he asked her, handing the third unresponsive wand back to Ollivander.

"Do you hear that sound?" June asked. Ollivander froze and looked at her curiously.

"What sound?" Llian asked. He wondered if she was having another vision. Or, he worried, maybe she wasn't as fully recovered as they had thought.

"It's a ringing." She struggled to describe it. "Kind of a hum, but very deep - and extremely high at the same time. It's more a vibration than a sound, really."

Llian thought he saw Ollivander pale, but the old man turned away so quickly he couldn't be sure.

"Here we are: I'm sure you'll find this wand more satisfactory."

Llian took the wand and was immediately enveloped in warmth. Golden sparks flew from the edge of the wand. It felt like an extension of his arm.

Ollivander smiled in satisfaction. "Dragon heartstring, maple, twelve and one quarter inches. A very intense wand, I daresay, good for transfiguration and curses. Use it well. Now, you," he said, turning to June. "I fear I have a feeling you'll be a bit more difficult to place." June looked embarrassed at the thought of causing him trouble.

Ollivander went through what seemed like every wand in his shop. None of the wands so much as twitched for her. Two boys who couldn't have been any older than eleven came in and waited. After several more wands, Ollivander finally asked them to finish their school shopping and come back in another hour or so. Llian watched them leave, wondering if he'd see them at Hogwarts and what house they'd be in. For that matter, he wondered what house he would be in. Maybe in Ravenclaw - he wouldn't mind that. The pretty girl they had just met at Flourish and Blotts was the Seeker for Ravenclaw. No, he wouldn't mind being in that house at all.

"What house do you think you'll be in?" Llian asked June. She gave the wand she was waving uselessly back to Ollivander.

"I don't know. Probably Slytherin because Papa's in Slytherin."

"Naw, not Slytherin," Hagrid protested. "Yer too nice. Half the witches and wizards go in Slytherin come out on ther Dark Side. Most kids at Hogwarts are scared of the Slytherin."

"But that's why I want to be in it," June explained. She grinned at Hagrid. "If I'm in Slytherin I won't be the short, quiet kid anymore - I'll be the short, quiet, scary kid! I'll strike fear into the hearts of my enemies. Bwa, ha, ha!" She tried to mimic evil laughter which might have worked had her voice been even remotely scary and several octaves lower.

"You couldn't scare a fly," dismissed Llian. "I think you'll be in Hufflepuff - well, maybe a kind of twisted Hufflepuff."

She considered the houses. Finally she announced, "Hagrid was in Gryffindor! And so was Dumbledore! I like Gryffindor!"

"It don't matter what either of you like," interrupted Hagrid. "It's the hat that does the deciding."

"Well, I should choose in advance so I know what house to tell the hat to put me in," June replied.

Llian laughed. Seeing the look on Hagrid's face he said, "Don't worry - she's always like this. It reminds me of the time some one asked her after a race she'd just placed in why she runs. You know what she said: because I can!"

Llian smiled at June, but underneath he was afraid. He didn't want June to be in Slytherin. Sometimes she did scare him. He decided if June was put in Slytherin he'd just have to find a way to convince the hat to put him there, too. He had been looking after June about half his life - now he especially needed to keep an eye on her.

June was a strange combination. She could be sweet and shy, yes, but there was definitely a different side to her, the side full of bitter violence and dark humor. There was a part of her that seemed to understand more than she should. But about everyday things she was hopelessly naïve. He supposed it was her Vola blood that made silly things like laws meaningless to June. Not that she usually went around stealing things. At least she hadn't broken any lately, but she had in the past and hadn't thought a thing of it - June was ruled by her own will. She just didn't see the need to include herself as part of society. She had no idea about the legal debate going on at the Ministry. Some were fearful of her and wanted to prosecute his sister, even though she had killed in self-defense. There was a big movement, headed by no other than Cornelius Fudge, to have June sent to Azkaban - that was what Llian feared even more than having her put on trial. He knew exactly what Dementors would be able to do to people like June. Look at what happened to Harry when he was only in the same room as one. Llian had a feeling that the effect on June would be much, much worse.

There were others in the Ministry who were pushing to have magical restraints put on June so she couldn't use her magic. It didn't matter ho many times Dumbledore explained the consequences of such an action - the Ministry obstinately insisted that June couldn't be allowed to roam freely. But Llian knew that although June was half-human as he was, she more heavily relied on her Volarian side. Taking the magic away from the Volari means death. It would kill her.

June tried the last wand.

"I was afraid of this?" Ollivander muttered.

"Afraid of what?" Llian asked. "June needs a wand."

He sighed in reply. "The wand chooses the wizard - or witch, as the case may be. I have a bad feeling I knew which wand is calling you, and I don't like it at all. I heard it start humming early this afternoon. It increased in pitch when you entered the shop."

"Then why didn't you give her that one first and save all this trouble?" Llian demanded.

Ollivander's silver eyes drilled into Llian's dark ones. "Because," the old man said slowly, "this wand had killed every one of its former owners."

Hagrid paled. "It's not the -"

"I'm afraid so."

"Don't give it to her - she's only fifteen! What are you thinking? You can't put that kind of burden on her shoulders!"

Llian was filled with cold dread. June was sitting on the rickety old chair by the door, calmly watching the conversation. Llian hoped that wasn't excitement he had seen flicker past her eyes. June!

"What exactly is this wand anyway?" Llian demanded.

"Tell 'im," Hagrid said gruffly.

"It is a wand that never should have been made. Wands frequently have a bit of a mind of their own, but not in the sense that they are living. This wand is alive."

"Alive?...How is that possible? Are you saying it's like some kind of evil spirit possessed it?"

"No, Llian. The wand in itself is not evil, but like all wands it is capable of both great good and great evil. . .but because it came to life on its own, it is potentially capable of great deals of power more than ordinary wands. However, the costs this will take on the wand and its user are unknown. Unfortunately, ambition-hungry wizards in the past have thought that using the wand will somehow just give them more power. They tried to use the wand when the wand did not choose them to use it. Only someone of equal power and strength of mind to the wand can wield it, no more, no less. Those who were not suited for it paid dearly for their mistakes."

"It killed 'em," Hagrid added. "Every one."

It was even worse than Llian had thought. "So, the person who has this wand.would be one of the most powerful people in the world?"

"No, it's not just about the power. If it were the wand would have found an owner long before now, as there have been many great witches and wizards throughout the years - some the likes of which once passed through the world will never be seen again. No, the wand needs some one who can match it, mentally. I don't mean better than others that don't match it, just one person out of all the millions of people in the world who can become its partner."

Llian shuddered at the thought of talking about the wand as though it were a person. "Well, it'll just have to find some one else out of all those millions. I won't let you give it to her. Even if the others only died because they forced themselves on it, we can't take that chance with my sister!"

"Professor Snape would kill me if I let his daughter come home with that," Hagrid added.

"I have no choice," Ollivander insisted. "If I did, I would choose otherwise, believe me. But this wand is quite insistent - it will follow her anyway, were she to get up and leave right this instant. It's not a wise thing to upset a living wand that doesn't have the faculty for reasoning, as it is ownerless!"

They all burst out into argument, trying to shout over one another.

"While you're all busy arguing about me as if I weren't here," interrupted June, "maybe you'd better go ahead and bring the wand out for me to look at."

Llian gaped at her. His fears were true!

"Well, it did choose me," she continued. "The least I can do is meet it and decide if I like it enough to return the compliment."

Llian's heartbeat slowly returned to a semi-normal pattern of beating as Ollivander disappeared through a door in the back of the shop. He looked over at June. Her face was impassive - or at least the serious, studious expression that for June translated into a blank face. He hoped she knew what she was doing.

No, he decided. He was just going to have to trust June. She thought things thoroughly before she acted. His only worry was that her thinking had been too one-sided. June could usually weigh out the pros and cons objectively in her head. But once she decided on something, it might as well be written in stone. He pictured June in his mind, grinning at him and saying, 'Just call me a mule!'

Ollivander came back carrying a small dark wooden trunk. He took out a chain of keys from under his robes and started unlocking the several mildewed locks on the trunk. He pulled out a small box the size of the other wand boxes, but this one looked metallic, like steel or titanium. They stared in silence at the box in his hands.

"This wand technically isn't supposed to exist. The rumor was circulated that it was destroyed to stop power mongers from running after it. But very few people will recognize it for what it is. Maybe only some one like the archivists at the Ministry. And, of course, people like Dumbledore. And Voldemort. But, still, advertising the wand wouldn't be a smart thing to do. If you do choose it, it will probably protect itself ferociously. It won't let anyone take it away from you."

"Let's see it then," June snapped.

"Choose wisely," he murmured as he opened the box, more in prayer, Llian thought, than in advice.

The cushion inside the box was an unmistakable color - the same unique carmine that June's eyes turned when she experienced intense emotions, the same color as her wings. Llian felt a wave of hopelessness wash over him. Who were they, under the great tidal wave of fate?

Llian glanced at his sister. Her eyes, charcoal now either because she was calm or because of the charmed glasses she wore to mask their occasional variance, studied the black wand curiously.

Suddenly the wand jumped out of the box and flew to June. It hovered in front of her chest, its handle facing her.

"What are these marking on it?" she asked.

"It's a passage from an old prophecy, from the Apocalyptic Verses from before time was recorded: For the One who Sees true will to this world Salvation bring."

"That doesn't sound too bad," admitted Llian.

"Those cursed prophecies are a double-edged sword," Ollivander spat. "Never assume you understand them. Salvation is good, right? Wrong. It depends on your interpretation - some people think we can bring salvation to the world only by destroying it."

"What maniac would think that?" wondered Llian.

"Your father did." Llian considered it in silence.

"What's it written in?" asked June.

"It's an archaic language, written into the wood with obsidian," Ollivander said. "I suppose this means you use rocks as a Strength Grounding?"

June nodded. Llian was shocked that he could have missed such an important part of his sister's life, especially one so blatantly obvious. Every time they moved, one of the first things June did was romp through the countryside and find a large rock - she would declare it her Thinking Rock and sit on it to write poetry and stories, or simply think. He remembered her pale and ill, tossing with a fever in the night, and his being frantic over her disappearance in the morning, only to find her cool and calm sleeping on her rock outside. He remembered the small rocks she occasionally collected, picking up and dropping them seemingly at random.

June reached for the wand. Llian wanted to shout, push her aside, stop her - but he knew he couldn't. None of them could. They all watched helplessly as her long fingernails clasped around the handle.

The air disappeared. It felt as though the room had become a freezing vacuum. The ringing Ollivander and June had heard was now an ear-splitting vibration that Llian could feel in his ribs. Time froze, hung in midair as if about to crash down on the floor.

Then the air shuddered and returned to normal. All five of them relaxed. Llian took a deep breath and looked out the front door - everything was going on normally; nobody had a clue what had just happened inside Ollivander's Wand Shop.

Llian studied June, who had her head bent over the wand, studying it. Llian thought Hagrid was right - Papa was certainly going to kill someone.

June looked up. "How much?" she asked.

After they paid a quiet Ollivander and gathered their things, June opened the metallic box to place the wand back inside. She saw the small slip of paper in the corner and snatched it out. She read out loud: "Nine inches, Ebony, Obsidian, feather of Sphinx."

A/N: I wrote "All _five_ of them relaxed" for a reason.


	10. The Sorting Ceremony

The Sorting

------

Harry stared out the train window, forehead and glasses pressed against the glass.

Hermione snatched glances at him in between reading pages from their new Transfiguration textbook. Ron and Harry had written to her all about Harry's strange behavior and Dumbledore's subsequent visit. Sirius sat on the seat next to Harry, his black furry head resting in the boy's lap. As promised, Harry's insomnia had abruptly ended, followed by several days spent in a coma-like state from which it was difficult to rouse him. Sometimes he would be able to keep his eyes open for several hours at a time, but mostly he slept. The Weasleys came to dread Harry's time asleep almost as much as he did; when he slept he was flung from one nightmare to the next, some visionary, but all horrific. They made him roll around in a cold sweat, sometimes throwing things like alarm clocks and lamps, and filling the house with his terrified screams.

Although he had slept almost continually those few days, when he had awoken he was a tired as he had been before. Ron had written to Hermione as a confidante, trying to explain what those days were like, shuddering at the memory even now. The Weasley twins were now attacking Harry with twice their usual amount of practical jokes, determined that he needed the distraction. Their parents were horrified at their lack of tact, but instead of being annoyed, Harry seemed glad, Hermione noted, that the twins were bent on treating him no differently than they had before the attack.

Hermione had once dared to ask Harry what he had dreamt, but his face paled and became terrified, an expression Hermione rarely saw from him even when faced with extreme danger. She had quickly apologized and changed the subject.

Just as often, Hermione glanced over at Draco. He had arrived at Platform 9 ¾ as the train was pulling away, jumping onto it before it disappeared completely. He had then barged into the compartment where Ron, Hermione, Harry, and Snuffles sat, putting his trunk over head and sitting down near the door. He never made a single noise, except for when a very confused Crabbe and Goyle shuffled in and started to sit next to him. "Go away!" he had snapped furiously. They left.

Later Pansy had also come in; her pug face was arranged the closest Hermione had ever seen it to looking concerned. She sat next to Draco silently and then put her hand to his arm as if she were about to speak. He slapped it away. She left quickly without a word.

Hermione and Ron were extremely disconcerted by his presence, but unsure how to approach this new, silent Malfoy. They had found out from Ron's dad that Lucius Malfoy had been killed during the attack. Harry ignored him completely, telling his two friends all about Llian and June as if Draco weren't there. Draco didn't appear to be listening to Harry. But his grey eyes never left Harry's face once during the entire trip.

Draco's appearance was just as strange as Snape's. Ron had written to Hermione all about it. While talking with Harry at the Burrow one day Snape had suddenly burst into the room, his cape billowing bat-like behind him. He had thrown a letter addressed to Harry in a scrawling script and two bottles of potion into Harry's lap.

"I was asked by June to personally deliver this to you. The potion in the long, skinny bottle with help deter the strength of the headaches. The smaller one will help, but not completely stop, some of the more painful dreams. The letter can be answered the usual way - I am not a mail service." He glared at them as if challenging them to disagree. "That is all," he finished as he stormed out of the room.

Harry and Ron had looked at the three items that were thrown in Harry's lap and then at each other.

"What the -" Ron had wondered out loud. When asked, Harry admitted his headache's had started soon after the attack. "Why didn't you tell anyone?" as worried Ron had asked. Harry shrugged.

Right now Ron was engaged in glaring at Draco with open hostility. He had no sympathy that Draco's dad had been killed while attempting to torture and murder his best friend. He was watching Draco for any sign of movement. "If he so much as moves his wand hand," Ron whispered in a loud voice to Hermione, "I'll knock the freakin' daylights out of him."

Sirius had watched Draco with interest when he came in, but as he smelled no violence on him, just confusion and sorrow, he quickly lost interest and went back to sleep. Harry appeared to be calm and Sirius had no desire to distress him.

The small compartment was filled with tension. Neville had once come in with a smile on his face, looking ready to tell a joke. One look at the faces of the four people was enough to wipe the smile off his face and make him turn around and walk straight back out the door. Whatever was going on in there, he had a feeling he didn't want to become involved.

"Are your headaches any better?" Hermione asked, trying to break the painful silence. Snuffles lifted his head to look at Harry, as did Ron. He didn't answer but continued to look out the window.

"I think he's talking to June," Ron whispered to Hermione, loud enough for Snuffles to catch but not so Draco could hear. "See his lips are moving a bit?"

Snuffles nodded and Hermione went back to her book.

Draco was momentarily distracted. Had the dog sitting beside Harry just nodded?

When they walked out of the train at Hogwarts, Harry was enveloped by over nine feet of long dark hair. Hagrid picked Harry up off his feet and cradled him like he was an enormous baby. Hagrid sniveled for several minutes while Harry struggled to breath through Hagrid's mass of wild hair and at the same time trying to reassure Hagrid that he was indeed alive and well. Draco watched the exchange from a few feet away, his eyes narrowed to slits. Before Hagrid had finally left, calling out "Firs' years this way!" in his booming voice, he extracted a promise from Harry to stay out of trouble and visit Hagrid for tea as soon as the term started.

They managed to secure a carriage for themselves, but pale hand reached out and held the door as Ron tried to close it. Draco climbed in and sat across from Harry. Ron and Hermione wondered what he wanted, but Harry tore his eyes away from the window to glance at Draco and nodded as if his behavior was to be expected.

Ron and Hermione wanted their old friend back.

Harry was in the lead as they walked into Hogwarts, Draco a step behind him and the other two keeping a wary eye on the silent Slytherin. When Draco started to turn left towards the feast, Harry reached out and grabbed his elbow. He gestured down an empty hallway to his right and started walking that way. Draco followed without question.

Ron and Hermione stopped at glanced at the bewildered expression on the other's face. They followed too.

At each corner Harry paused and tilted his head as if listening to some one before choosing his path. As they started down a flight of stairs they heard footsteps behind them. It was Professor Snape. He was very obviously not happy to see them.

"Where do you think you are going?" he demanded. He glanced past all of them, his face showing annoyance at the Gryffindors, curiosity at Draco, and pure hatred towards Sirius.

"The same place you are," Harry answered. Before a furious Snape could protest he added, "June asked me to," and continued down the stairs.

Ron glanced back to see Snape glaring at him. He hated Snape. The Potions Professor was walking so closely behind them that he was stepping on Ron's heels. Neither Ron nor Hermione could imagine what any children of Snape's would be like, although Harry had assured them that the Snape twins were completely normal. Even with Sirius with them, both Hermione and Ron didn't relish the prospect of being surrounded by three Snapes and a Malfoy. Hermione had already said that Two Snapes and a Malfoy sounded like the title of a particularly bad horror movie.

Harry stopped in front of a door and knocked. It opened and a boy stepped out. Ron and Hermione were completely shocked. The boy in front of them looked exactly like a younger version of Professor Snape: long nose, shoulder length hair, dark eyes, the whole works. What had really shocked them was what the younger Snape was wearing: pea green running shorts and a bright yellow shirt with hideous pink and orange flowers strewn over it.

Llian grinned broadly and threw his long arms around Harry. "Our good friend Harry!" he exclaimed. "I'm pleased to see you're as hard to kill off as the common cockroach."

Harry turned around and announced, "Everyone, this is Llian."

"I like Quidditch and horseradish and long walks on the beach -" interrupted Llian.

"Shut up!" Harry demanded, poking Llian roughly in the side. Ron turned slightly green - they were acting like old friends would. Harry introduced Llian to each of them. "This is Hermione, and Ron - they're both in Gryffindor with me. This is Draco Malfoy - he's in Slytherin."

Llian shook each of their hands enthusiastically. "Slytherin, eh?" he said when he shook Draco's hand. "What are you doing hanging around trash like this?" Hermione grabbed Ron's arm when she saw his fist tighten. "Why, you're in the best house. It must be, of course, because papa's in it!" He slapped Professor Snape on the back cheerfully. Snape's mouth twitched into a grimace as he brushed past his son and walked into the open room. Sirius snapped as his heels as he passed, and Harry was forced to cuff him to make his godfather behave. "Harry told me all about you guys," continued Llian. "Come in and meet my sister. She's a bit nuts, but really who isn't these days?" They followed him into the room.

A girl sat on a desk by the window, one leg stretched out before her with a bag of ice on her knee. Llian did a funny little dance over to where she was sitting and happily announced while throwing his arms around her shoulders, "This is June, my sister!"

Professor Snape glared at the t-shirt and running shorts June was wearing. "I thought I told both of you to get dressed," he commented.

"Relax," drawled Llian. "They still have to sort the babies. As long as we get there before they finish eating we're fine." He flopped belly first onto the bed.

"How did you hurt your knee?" asked Professor Snape.

June shrugged. Llian answered for her. "This dope felt her knee starting to 'tickle' a mile into out thirteen miler this morning. She ignored it completely and after she woke up from her nap this afternoon she could barely walk."

"It doesn't hurt too much," June protested. "It feels fine if I don't bend it, or go down stairs."

"Or walk, or if you're not conscious," finished Llian. "Actually we were finishing our schedules. I'm gonna take Arithmancy and Care of Magical Creatures, 'cause I like Hagrid. And June's gonna take Ancient Runes and Care of Magical Creatures, 'cause she's in love with Hagrid."

"I love Hagrid!" confirmed June brightly.

Professor Snape studied the schedules and threw June's back in her lap. "Pick one," he said. "Your second will be Divination."

June's face darkened. "I will not take Divination," she said slowly, sliding the schedule down the desk.

He slid it back. "You will take it," he answered.

She slid it back again. "I will take Study of Ancient Runes and Care of Magical Creatures," she said carefully.

He shoved the paper back into her hands and towered over her. "You will take Divination or nothing at all."

June ripped the schedule in half and let the pieces drift to the floor. "Then I'll go to school elsewhere. There's nothing keeping me here." Hermione could see that her last sentence hurt Snape more than any disappointment she had ever seen him bear. She didn't like where this conversation was going. She didn't know anything about June, but the way June had automatically jumped to that last statement made Hermione believe that June indeed didn't feel anything was wrong with simply picking up her things and leaving if she didn't get her way.

Snape snatched the torn page from the floor and magically made it whole. He took a deep breath and continued with a gentler voice: "Dumbledore has expressly asked me to encourage you to take Divination."

Llian bounced off the bed and whispered into Harry's ear. Hermione overheard him say, "What a sneak! Mention Dumbledore and June would do anything for you. She thinks Dumbledore is her grandfather or something."

"Divination is for fools," June muttered, but her heart was no longer in it. She looked down at her schedule. "Fine, but I'm not going to drop any other subjects!"

"Very well," said Snape, trying to sound reluctant, but obviously pleased with himself for managing to convince her to take a subject she abhorred. "I'll see if I can convince McGonagall to allow you to take an extra class."

Llian ran into the bathroom and slammed the door shut as Harry introduced June to everyone now that the room was easier to breathe in. Hermione thought she seemed a lot like Ginny, kind of shy and quiet but fierce. She wondered if they would be friends. She scratched that idea furiously from her mind: a Slytherin and Gryffindor would never be friends.

June's eyes stopped on Draco. "Malfoy." she whispered. He stared at her intently. His face was a mask.

The bathroom door burst open as Llian ran back into the room wearing his dress robes, slightly askew from being put on hastily. "June get ready!" He saw her looking intently at Draco. "June?"

Hermione wondered why Snape looked slightly worried until the full impact of what was going on hit her like a falling piano. June had killed Draco's father. True, he had intended to kill her first, but it didn't change the fact. What could they possibly say to each other? How were they going to go to school together? Why didn't Snape stop Draco from coming in? Why had Harry purposely led him here?

There was an awkward silence. Draco walked slowly towards June. Hermione glanced at Harry: he looked calm and unconcerned. Snape, however, was starting to reach for his wand. Sirius wandered around the room in a dog-like fashion, ignoring all the mini-dramas that had erupted.

Draco walked right up to June and then stopped. Everyone watched him, ready to attack if he gave any signs of violence. June reached up and took off her glasses, her eyes not leaving his for an instant. Her eyes were bright carmine.

"You have pretty eyes," Draco said. He looked almost as surprised at hearing his own voice as everyone else was. "I hate you," he said. "I hate you. I want you to die." He tightened his fists into balls. His back started shivering. June looked sad. She slid her arms around Draco and pulled him close in a hug. Instead of pulling away he hugged her back. His shoulders now shook violently in small hiccups. Hermione was aghast - was Draco really crying?

Ron and Hermione glanced at one another. This certainly was an unexpected development. A month ago they would have loved to catch Draco in such an emotionally vulnerable position, but now they wished they hadn't. Their look was a silent agreement - no one else in the school would ever hear what happened in this room from their mouths. Hermione glanced at Harry. He was looking out the window. Hadn't he liked June? Hermione had thought before that lots of girls at Hogwarts would give an arm to have Harry smile at them the way he had at June. Was he going to be mad? But Harry's face was a mask.

Draco let go of June and sat down heavily on the edge of the bed. He put his head between his knees and rocked back and forth. Snape twitched as if he wanted to go over and comfort him, but remained still.

June cleared her throat. "Malfoy and I will be up to the feast in a minute. "Papa, why don't you bring the rest on up and you can save me a seat?"

Snape clearly didn't like this idea at all, but her voice had been more a demand than a question. He started out the door and the rest followed. Hermione hated Snapes and Malfoys both, but she wasn't so sure it was a good thing to leave June and Draco alone. Maybe they just need to talk, she thought. Maybe only one of them will leave the room alive, she added. Or maybe they would both kill each other.

Hermione tried not to think these things. She knew Harry considered Snape's children as friends, although she couldn't resist trying to dig through her encyclopedic knowledge of poison and charms to think of one they could have used on Harry to make him think so.

When they reached the banquet hall, Snape stopped. "I'm waiting here," he announced. "You can go on in." He turned his back and waited for June, leaning against the wall with his arms folded. Llian stayed too, and so did Harry. Hermione and Ron grudgingly stayed too, lest Snape take advantage of being practically alone with Harry, especially since Sirius had taken it upon himself to wander off. Neither one of them completely trusted Llian. He acted open and friendly, but he seemed constantly watchful, as if he were guarding something.

After the applause for the end of the sorting ceremony, they could hear Dumbledore's voice through the door: "Hello and welcome to another year at Hogwarts. I am sorry to say that this year will be significantly different for all of us. Due to Cedric's death last year and several attacks over the summer which I'm sure you've read about in the papers, there will be new security measures taken. The Forbidden Forest is as off-limits as ever, but now students wandering the grounds must stay within sight and ear-shot of the main castle. We ask that students not walk across the ground by themselves but stay in groups. The teachers have decided that Quidditch will continue, but all practices must take place during daylight hours and with proper supervision. We will inform the students of new policies and restrictions as they occur. Also the number of trips to Hogsmeade will be severely limited. At present, we officially have all such trips cancelled, but if the opportunity presents itself, we may take one, but don't get your hopes up. I'm afraid we are entering serious times indeed. On a happier note, we have several new people at Hogwarts this year."

Just then, June turned the corner at a limping run. Her black robes were wrinkled and hastily arranged but it did little to diminish the look of the expensive material they were made from.

"June!" Llian groaned. "Don't tell me you ran all the way here on that knee?" June was a bit out of breath as she looked down at the floor sheepishly. "Well don't blame me when you completely kill it!"

Behind the door Dumbledore announced that new Defense Against the Dark Arts teacher was Fleur Delacour. He continued to inform the student body that Professor Binns had taken a long overdue retirement and would be replaced by Florean Fortescue, who would be passing on his Ice Cream Parlor on Diagon Alley to his niece. Hermione couldn't believe that the man she had bought sundaes from for five years was now going to teach history. Dumbledore was announcing that there would be two transfer students that year when they opened the door and walked in.

"-and here they are now, just in time to be sorted before we begin our feast!" Dumbledore concluded. The three Gryffindors sat down at their table and the three Snapes made their way to the front of the room. Llian and June were staring at the old hat on the stool in front as if it were some kind of bomb waiting to explode.

Professor McGonagall picked up the hat and called out, "Juniper Snape!" June walked quickly towards her is if she wanted to get it over with as soon as possible. Midway between the stool and the rest of her small family, she paused. She looked towards the door.

The hall was completely silent, watching her. A few people turned around to look at the closed door themselves. Harry suddenly twitched as if shocked and jumped to his feet, facing the door.

It opened as Cornelius Fudge burst into the room, followed by several Dementors. He made his way towards June. Harry moved as if to stop him, but Fudge angrily said, "Get out of my way, boy!" When Harry refused to move, Fudge petrified him and stormed past.

"Dumbledore!" he yelled. "You've been given too much freedom for too long! It's time for the Ministry to step in. You house dangerous beings like werewolves and half-giants, spread false rumors against the Ministry's orders, and now you protect a creature that isn't even human who is guilty of murdering fifteen men!"

"You are out of line," said Dumbledore calmly, walking down between the tables to meet Fudge with Snape and McGonagall right behind him. "June acted solely in self defense. I cannot allow you to take her."

While they were arguing, Hermione leaned over and whispered the counter- charm to free Harry. He leapt to his feet and screamed, "JUNE!" They all looked back at her. The Dementors, not having been watched, had floated around them and surrounded June. A carmine light was floating out of June like heat and flowing into the Dementors, who appeared to be sucking it up like water. Harry quickly said a curse that made a white stag jump out of his wand and charge down the Dementors. They flew back out the door just as Arthur Weasly, surrounded by several Ministry wizards and witches, ran inside.

"Fudge!" Arthur shouted. "What do you think you are doing? You know you aren't allowed to do this - the Ministry has forbidden it. It places the girl's life in too much danger."

Fudge looked angrier than Hermione had ever seen him before. "I am the Ministry," he declared. "Have you forgotten your place? The girl is fine."

June had collapsed to the ground. Snape and Llian kneeled besides her, their white faces speechless. Hermione felt a sickening feeling in her gut. Why did they look like that? What was wrong with June?

Snape turned towards the door at the side of the Great Hall and called for Dobby. When the trembling house elf emerged Snape said, "Run as quickly to my personal stores as possible and bring back the vial of Revitalar potion." Dobby rushed out of the hall in the blink of an eye.

"Oh, my God!" whispered Arthur fiercely as he ran past Fudge straight at June. He kneeled besides her and was silent for a long time. Finally he stood and turned slowly towards the Minister. "I'm going to have to place you under arrest for violating the Ministry's express orders, placing the children of Hogwarts in danger after full proof of the Dementors' unreliability, and for." His voice broke.

"You can't do that!" Fudge looked as if he had suggested that the sky was yellow. "There's nothing wrong with her!"

"She's dead," Arthur said dully.

Fudge looked flabbergasted before regaining his composure. "Well, it wasn't my fault? How was I supposed to know?"

Arthur Weasly had a look of such un-Wealsy-like rage on his face that Hermione was afraid he would curse Fudge as he stood. "No? You have been clearly told of the dangers of exposing Volari, even half Volari, especially a Seer, into direct contact with Dementors! You continually deny the existence of Lord Voldemort! You're not an evil person, I'll grant you that - but by what you're doing to the Ministry, you might as well be a Death Eater yourself!" Everyone gasped at this. "We're going to impeach you and have a new Minister that doesn't go around denying what is right in front of his nose and killing innocent children in the process!" He turned to the Ministry staff that had accompanied him. "Arrest him," he ordered.

Fudge screamed as they handcuffed him and dragged him out of the hall, "You won't away with this Arthur! I'll ruin you! Your days at the Ministry are over!" and then was gone.

Dobby sprinted back into the hall and gave a vial to Professor Snape, who quickly uncapped it and dribbled into June's partially open mouth.

"I'm so sorry this had to happen," Mr. Weasly said to Dumbledore. "It's my fault for not paying Fudge closer attention. This shouldn't have happened." He paused and cleared his throat, trying to blink back the tears gathering in his eyes.

"It's not working," Snape said dryly. He sounded completely defeated. He fed her some more potion with shaking hands. Suddenly, he rummaged through her robes and brought out her wand. "You were supposed to protect her. DO SOMETHING DAMMIT!" He brought the wand down hard to his knee to break it.

Suddenly the room became unbearably cold. The lights flickered and dimmed as the air vanished. There was a second of complete silence before the air returned as June gasped and tried to sit up. Snape and Llian attacked her, covering her with their arms so only the top of her black hair showed.

Hermione breathed a sigh of relief and looked over at Harry. As soon as June had collapsed he had sat and closed his eyes. He looked like he was in a trance, but as soon as June returned he opened them and grinned across the table at his two friends. They smiled back tentatively, hiding the fact that they were extremely disconcerted by his actions. What had he been doing? They felt like they had just woken up from a particularly nasty nightmare. No one had any hunger left for the cold food that waited for them.


	11. Snape's Past

Snape's Past

------

He walked down the cold hallway in his thin nightshirt. His brother's screams sounded from a room at the end. He approached the door slowly with dread growing fuzzily in his chest, tiptoeing as if his step-father would be able to hear him above the racket. The light under the door glowed eerily in the dim hallway. He watched in horror as blood started seeping underneath the door and pool in the hall. He backed away from it as if it were poison. A thin voice called for him from beyond the door in front of him: "Severus.Severus, help me! Please?..." The voice sounded mournful and desperate. It was Orlando's voice.

He ran to the door at full speed. It burst open, and he was enveloped in bright light. The door had opened to the roof of the old mansion. He stepped up onto the edge and looked down into the gardens many floors below. The flowers on all the bushes were wilted. It was the beginning of fall.

"No Orlando - don't do it!" a voice said behind him. He turned to see his brother's face quivering in fear, a copy of his own. He turned back around and hurled himself off the roof.

As he fell, he thought that this must be wrong. He had been at school when it happened, he hadn't even been here. It was all wrong.

Too late to change things now, he thought as the ground reached up to meet him.

He jumped. His heart raced as sweat ran down his forehead and back. June stirred next to him, gripping his arm tighter and then sighing back into a deep sleep. He must have drifted off on the hospital bed next to her. He was afraid to leave her - afraid that if he turned his back for only an instant she would leave him again.

When she had died he felt completely numb, as if submerged in icy water. He couldn't comprehend the reality of life without either of his children. One without the other would be like Fred Weasly without George. He couldn't even begin to imagine life without both of them. If that ever happened he would follow his brother peacefully.

He lifted the bandage to peer at the cut on her forehead. She must have scratched it when she fell. It was small and thin but deep. She would probably have a bit of a scar from it.

Poppy had said she might not recover. "Expect the best, but prepare for the worst," she had told him. He expected the best. She would recover. She had to because there was nothing else for her to do. There were no other possibilities he would accept. He wondered what his students would say if they saw him asleep holding a fifteen-year-old girl as if she were a life- size teddy bear. He didn't really give a damn.

Llian was asleep in the bed next to June's. The Dementors had left him severely weakened. They had stolen some of his life force too, although their main target had been June.

He looked down at his own bandaged hands. The wand had burned him when he attempted to break it. They told him he was lucky it hadn't killed him. It would have been a small price to pay to bring June back. He would kill Fudge if he had to. Then again, he would very likely kill Fudge anyway.

The Revitalar is an extremely dangerous potion to use. He may have brought June back to life so she would be cursed with a half life, not unlike the effects of unicorn's blood. But living to die at age fifty wasn't as threatening as living to die at fifteen. The potion is very powerful but often unpredictable. It was only supposed to be used in dire circumstances and with the Ministry's permission. Arthur had in retrospect granted permission on behalf of the Ministry, overlooking the fact that Severus wasn't supposed to have any in his personal stores in the first place. Severus had a feeling that the next few weeks would be very interesting for Arthur. He knew all about Arthur from Lucius.

Lucius.

He looked at June. Everything was so complicated. What was he supposed to think about his own daughter murdering the man who had once been like an older brother to him? Lucius had been the one who recruited Severus. He had changed the broken teenager Severus had been into what he was now. Severus had mixed feelings about Lucius. His death only made them more complex. But without Lucius, Severus would be dead himself. Looking back, maybe that wasn't a bad outcome. He stopped that line of thought - as horrible as their births had been, if Severus had died Llian and June wouldn't exist.

Lots of people hated the Malfoys. Lucius did have a tendency to create alliances more out of intimidation than friendship. Plenty people figured all the Malfoys were evil - and maybe they were.

Severus gritted his teeth. But those same people would abandon him when he needed help most. It had been the Malfoys that took him in after the death of his family. They had cared for him, prevented him from committing suicide many times over, and given him a new purpose in life. They had used their considerable influence to free Severus of the murder charges. They had even extracted a formal, written apology from the Ministry. Severus had burned it. That letter wouldn't erase the scars off his back or raise his dead twin from his grave.

Severus was fully aware that their motives were entirely manipulative. But the Malfoys had been the only people that understood how Severus felt and what he had gone through. They had been the only people to give him a real home while the better natured and kinder intentioned people turned their backs.

Lucius was the one who brought Severus to his first Death Eater's meeting. Severus had approached Lord Voldemort unabashedly to state his conditions. The men in the circle around him had gasped at his apparent lack of respect.

"I do not accept conditions," the Dark Lord had told him. "You are either completely with us or else you will be killed."

"Then kill me," he had answered. It could have easily cost him his life. "But if you seek to break the Ministry I'd give my soul at the slightest command."

Voldemort had eyed him carefully, his eyes gleaming. He accepted Severus. He had probably thought Severus would be of great use. Severus wondered if Voldemort know that the young man he took in almost eighteen years earlier felt the same way about him.

It was on Lucius's wings that he had grafted to a position of power in Voldemort's hierarchy. Lucius had looked after him like a brother (of course, he had completely ignored Severus since Voldemort's fall, except for the odd infrequent visits, like at the end of Draco's second year after the Chamber of Secrets scare). Lucius had breathed life into a dying soul. Of course, Lucius had also allowed him to be bitten.

He remembered the day Lucius broke his trust and used him as bait against a blood-thirtsy vampire.

Which reminded Severus. He took a vial of red liquid from his robes and swallowed the pungent formula in one gulp. He had become accustomed to its taste after all these years. It was an extremely difficult potion to make (but easy for someone as rich as Lucius to buy by the dozen), but besides having lots of practice Severus was an expert at potions. Even if he wasn't, the potion would still be made perfectly. Severus's single-minded determination and discipline could create or destroy almost anything.

The potion made his light-sensitive eyes and skin invincible to the harsh sunlight. It shrunk his fangs so that he wouldn't be easily identifiable as a vampire. He could roam outside freely during the day as long as not too much skin was exposed and if he went back into the shade every couple hours. The potion couldn't cure his too frequent insomnia or the permanent yellow tone his skin had taken. With his condition, he had never planned on having children, ever. It only made June and Llian that much more valuable.

He thought back to the day he met the children's mother, and still couldn't figure out what had happened. He was too tired to keep his eyes open any longer. Burying his face in June's long black hair, he drifted back off to sleep.


	12. Draco's Decision

Draco's Decision  
  
"You are not your father," she had told him. "Draco, you have to follow your own path. Even if you become the next Dark Lord yourself, at least do it because you want to, not because your father wanted to."  
  
"I'm so confused," he had admitted. Had she put some kind of charm on him to make him vulnerable? Draco didn't have many feelings besides anger and boredom. "I don't know what to think about everything. Whether to hate him or Voldemort or both -"  
  
"Life isn't a book," she interrupted. "People rarely have the polarized feelings they do in fiction. In fantasy everything is clear-cut: this person is good, this one bad, this one annoying. Bah. In real-life it's all grey area. You can be annoyed at people you like and dislike at the same time."  
  
It had been a short conversation, but Draco remembered every word they had exchanged. He had roamed the halls, lost in thought, instead of going to the feast. He thought about seeing June at the table during breakfast in the morning, in class during the day, studying in the Slytherin common room at night. He wasn't sure how he felt about that.  
  
It wouldn't be all that bad seeing her around, he decided. At least she wasn't a Mudblood, although she sometimes acted like it.  
  
"You have pretty eyes," he had blurted out. He felt like such a dork. His ears burned just remembering. But she did. Her features and figure were unremarkable, but her eyes.  
  
He recalled making out with Pansy last year in the North Tower. She hadn't resisted at all. He thought at the time that if he wanted to go further, she wouldn't stop him. But the prospect had made him dreadfully bored. He wondered what it would be like to kiss June.  
  
He sat on a stone bench now near the dungeons. It was the middle of the night. Several Slytherins had found him in the hall and informed him of the events of the Sorting Feast. Just like a bloody soap opera, one had commented dryly. He had parted company with them at the common room. He needed to be alone, to walk down the halls endlessly with no purpose in mind. It was hard news to digest.  
  
He tried to imagine June's lying on the floor dead. He pictured his father dead, his battered body lying face-down in a puddle of his own blood. It had been a closed-casket funeral. If June hadn't come back, he wouldn't have grieved, he decided.  
  
He heard footsteps come down the hall towards him. He continued to stare at the floor until two pink slippers sticking out from purple robes appeared in front of him. He looked up. It was Dumbledore.  
  
"Headmaster," he said, nodding as if it were normal for students to be roaming the halls in the middle of the night. Dumbledore peered at him curiously over his spectacles.  
  
"Do you mind?" the old man asked, indicating the empty space next to Draco on the bench.  
  
"Suit yourself," he retorted, but he moved over the make room anyway.  
  
"I'm terribly sorry about the death of your father. I imagine you haven't received much sympathy. But I grieve the loss of life no matter how the person chose to live it."  
  
"Yeah, well, I didn't receive any cards from the Death Eaters either," Draco said bluntly.  
  
Dumbledore considered him. "You blame June for your father's death? And you also blame Voldemort."  
  
He shrugged in answer. "Partially."  
  
"Yet you have considered supporting him?"  
  
Draco turned towards him. "Yes, I was.but now I'm not so sure. I don't understand you. My father was a Death Eater. I'm very likely to follow in his footsteps. You know this. Why do you allow me to even come to Hogwarts?" Draco had wanted to transfer to Durmstrang but his mother wouldn't hear of it.  
  
"I can't abandon you because of who you are. I couldn't turn you away anymore than I could have turned away Remus Lupin, or James Potter, or Rebeus Hagrid, or Severus Snape. You're free to make your own choices in life, I won't deny you that. But know that if you do not choose to ally yourself against Voldemort, I will fight you to the death if necessary."  
  
Draco took a deep breath. He had never talked with the Headmaster so truthfully before. He had hit at the heart of the matter of all Draco's problems. Well, most of them. Draco hadn't expected a parade in mourning for his father, but he had certainly expected more than his family had received, which was zilch. He needed other people's concern, even if he had to use manipulative means to achieve it, as he had at the beginning of his third year when that no-good Buckbeak had tried to kill him.  
  
"Have you been up to seen June in the hospital wing?" Dumbledore asked. Draco shook his head. Had Dumbledore read his mind? He had been considering sneaking up to see her. "Well I don't suppose Poppy would object strongly if we went quietly so as to not wake her."  
  
Dumbledore led the way up to the third floor. Draco suddenly remembered something.  
  
"Professor?" he asked. "Why did you list James Potter along with Lupin and Hagrid?"  
  
Dumbledore didn't answer for a second. Draco was excited when he realized from the look on the man's face that Dumbledore had slipped and said something he wasn't supposed to.  
  
"That is entirely between me and.and James," he answered.  
  
Draco was too aggressive to ignore Dumbledore's subtle cue that the subject was closed.  
  
"Harry doesn't know, does he? You didn't say between you and Harry. What are you hiding from him?" he demanded. From the flash in Dumbledore's blue eyes, he knew he had gone too far.  
  
"I must insist that you not discuss this further - with anyone. It does not concern you." Draco cowed as if confronted suddenly by a venomous snake he had formerly considered harmless.  
  
They reached the hospital wing. June was sleeping peacefully in Professor Snape's arms. The looked positively cute, holding on to each other as if afraid they would otherwise be lost. Draco wanted to barf. He tried to call forth the hatred he felt pulsing through his brain and attach it to June, but he couldn't.  
  
He suddenly grasped what June had been trying to tell him. It was okay to hate and love her at the same time. It was okay to love and hate his father. And it was okay to hate and love Lord Voldemort.  
  
They stood there a long time in silence. When Dumbledore finally walked Draco back to his common room, it was becoming light outside. After bidding the Headmaster goodnight, Draco still didn't sleep. He retrieved a parchment and quill from his trunk and snuck back downstairs with his hawk, Jibber, on his shoulder.  
  
He wrote the letter, signed it, and sealed it putting the imprint from the Malfoy crest on his ring in the wet wax. He sent it off. Draco's stomach churned. His reasons weren't completely crystal clear even to him. Perhaps it was to justify his father's death, or to continue the family tradition, or because he believed in the same ideals. But he had written the letter as a conscious decision. It had felt right.  
  
Should Lord Voldemort accept his letter, Draco would become a Death Eater. 


	13. Neville's New Friends

*****This chapter is dedicated to my good friend Liza who gives up her homework every morning to read my happy stories, and to the many conversations we've had over the years regarding the masochistic tendencies of runners!******  
  
Neville's New Friend  
  
Neville arrived at the Care of Magical Creatures class early. The only other students there were Ron, Hermione, and Harry, who were engaged in a discussion with Hagrid. It was mid-week now and Neville had been looking forward to this class for days. They were supposed to be covering Centaurs. Neville was excited. He was a Sagittarius and linked Centaurs to him somehow - probably from vague memories of a Divination lecture he had slept through. Then again, his mind sometimes made strange leaps that his classmates didn't understand.  
  
He stood a few feet away from the four. He didn't like to interrupt other people's conversations. Harry was discussing somebody's wand with Hagrid.  
  
As a few more students started drifting in the direction of Hagrid's hut, Neville spotted two people emerge from the Forbidden Forest. It was the Snape children. He was deathly afraid of Professor Snape, but he inched closer out of curiosity as the two new kids made their way towards Hagrid. They both wore running shorts and shirts, although they were walking now. Juniper (or was it June, as he had heard someone refer to her) was limping. She stopped several times to scold her knee as if it were a naughty child, sometimes tripping over high grass or twigs in the process. Every time she did so the boy laughed and tried to tickle her. She appeared to be extremely ticklish.  
  
The boy's t-shirt was wrapped around his head like a turban. Neville thought his name was Llian, but he wasn't sure who he heard it from. His chest and arms glistened with sweat. Juniper's arms did too, he noted. They were both quite muscular - well, next to Neville who was nothing, he felt, but a lump of fat. He had grown several inches over the summer and lost thirty pounds, but no one had even noticed. He was still slightly pudgy - he would be the 'fat kid' all his life, he thought darkly, even if he became as scrawny as Harry Potter.  
  
He wished he could look as good in running shorts and Llian and Juniper did. Especially Juniper. Scratch that! The thought of any Snape looking good in running shorts was appalling to Neville.  
  
He found his feet moving towards them as they began to talk with Hagrid and Harry.  
  
Llian was saying, "- and this little bugger didn't want to stop. I had to curse her just to drag her back. It only tickles, she proclaims! Bah. Don't blame me when you have arthritis in both knees by the time you're in your twenties."  
  
June grinned and stretched out her knee. She winced when she bent it back again.  
  
"Stop hurting yourself, you masochist!" Llian shouted.  
  
"I just wanted to make sure I couldn't go ahead and finish the run on it," she explained.  
  
"The only one who's going to finish the run is me while you are going to stay here and learn happy things about magical creatures."  
  
"You could stay too," Hagrid suggested.  
  
"I already know about Centaurs," Llian said. "I'll start class next week once we're sorted." He looked back at June and grinned mischievously. "Madame Pomfrey's gonna rip us to shreds - we're both supposed to still be in the hospital wing. But what better way is there to recover than to go for a nice healthy run?"  
  
When they had all finished laughing at Llian's craziness, Neville stepped into the small circle they had formed. "Hi, I'm Neville Longbottom," he introduced himself. "I'm a fifth year Gryffindor."  
  
"Hey, you're in Harry's class," Llian exclaimed as he shook Neville's hand. "I'm Llian and this is June." He smiled politely at Neville. June shifted her weight nervously. Apparently she wasn't crazy about meeting new people, or maybe it was just him. "Snape, that is," Llian added unnecessarily.  
  
"Rhymes with grape!" June exclaimed. "Sour grapes, those old Snapes; with odd-shaped toes, and their big nose!" She sang this in rhythm while bouncing on her heels, slowly as if making it up for the first time. She stopped when she quickly became embarrassed at her strange outburst.  
  
"That was funny," Neville said.  
  
Llian snickered and poked June in the side. She squealed and jumped. "The only thing funny about June is her nose!" he joked.  
  
"Do you make up rhymes often?" Neville asked. What a stupid question, he thought.  
  
"Yeah." she answered hesitantly. "Sometimes I make up silly songs to sing to myself as I run." These words sounded odd coming from June's serious face.  
  
"How much do you guys run?" Neville asked. He had seen Muggles running before, some of them even larger than he. If they can do it, he had told himself, surely I can too. But he had been too embarrassed to try. It was a Muggle craze - no proper wizard went running through the neighborhood in shorts.  
  
"Usually five to ten miles," Llian said. "We try to run at least five days a week - when we're not recovering from a near-death experience, that is."  
  
"What does it feel like to run?" Neville asked. When he had seen the Muggles running, he had the strangest sensation of running himself, just leaving his house and family behind.  
  
June grinned. "Oh, boy - what a question!" she exclaimed. "Most people ask why we run or what we think about, but you jump straight to the heart of the matter."  
  
Llian had a menacing look on his face as he answered, "It feels like being boiled alive in hot Tobasco sauce while having your joints stretched out of proportions and pins drilled into your shins and feet.but besides that it feels great!"  
  
"Don't listen to him," interrupted June. "Sometimes it's painful, but it's worth it at the end -"  
  
"Only because by the end you're so drugged up on the chemicals your body been pumping like mad to dull your sensations that you can't even feel the pain, or remember that you had any," cut in Llian.  
  
"No, there's something special about running," June said wistfully. "The feel of the wind through your hair, the sound of your footsteps on the ground, the feeling of power. And there are no balls or rules to worry about!"  
  
Neville thought she made it sound romantic. He was a klutz. He would love to be able to move without having to worry about brooms or dodging several balls at once. But the other part made it sound like a Crucio curse. Neville thought pain was definitely something he should stay away from. But his parents had suffered worse. If they could live through that, he could be as strong a person as they and bear pain himself.  
  
"I've always wanted to run," Neville blurted out.  
  
"A recruit! A recruit!" Llian shouted happily.  
  
"Then why don't you?" June asked.  
  
"Well." He wasn't sure how to explain. "Can you picture someone like me running?"  
  
"What do you mean?" June asked.  
  
Neville stared at her. Was she blind? Did she need it spelled out for her? "I'm fat!"  
  
She studied him. "No, you're not," she concluded. "A bit pudgy, maybe, but not fat."  
  
"I don't think your glasses are working," Neville said bitterly.  
  
"Neville, she's right," Hermione said. The three Gryffindors studied him like they had never seen him before. "I'm sorry I haven't mentioned it before, but you have lost a lot of weight." Ron and Harry nodded in agreement. "Maybe it was just baby fat after all. Well, you know we'd like you no matter how you look, but I have to admit you look good."  
  
Neville was extremely pleased. He didn't get many compliments, especially from Hermione, the genius girl. "I still couldn't run," he protested. "I don't have the aptitude for it."  
  
"So you won't make the Olympics - don't expect me to cry," said June. "But anyone can run. Anyone!"  
  
"I'd probably go about the speed other people walk," he said.  
  
"So what?" she demanded. "How do you think everybody starts out? I said you could run, not that you could run fast. Your speed is up to you. It doesn't really matter how fast you run, it's the running itself that counts. We don't run to go fast - we run 'cause its fun."  
  
"You wanna go running with me? I'll stop by your common room about an hour after class ends," Llian offered. "We can start off real easy - a fifteen minutes jog or something."  
  
"Sure," said Neville before he could convince himself not to. He wondered what he was getting into. He was as un-athletic as a doorknob. He never did anything right - what made him think running would be any different?  
  
"I'll see you later then!" Llian exclaimed as he set the timer on his Muggle sports watch and took off running towards the lake.  
  
"Wait!" called Neville. "I don't have any running shoes or clothes or anything!"  
  
"I'll take care of everything," Llian promised over his shoulder as he ran out of sight.  
  
Neville never did things out of the ordinary. What had come over him? Maybe if he could learn to run fast enough he could run with June sometime. It might be worth the few minutes of pain it would cost him. Run? Neville looked down at his large stomach and pictured it bouncing down the hallway, and all the students pointing and laughing. The incredibly expanding Neville!  
  
What had he gotten himself into?  
  
He was preoccupied during Hagrid's lecture. Not only did he have his promise to Llian to run to worry about, but June was standing back near where he was. He kept on stealing glances at her. She was absorbed in what Hagrid was saying. Once she looked up while Neville was staring at her. She smiled. He blushed furiously and looked away.  
  
He was walking back to the Gryffindor common room when he heard a voice behind him.  
  
"Um, Neville?"  
  
He turned to find June with a confused look on her face.  
  
"Sorry to bug you, but I'm not sure how to get back to the hospital wing," she said.  
  
"Oh, it's easy," he said. Being accident prone made knowing how to find Madame Pomfrey imperative. "You turn left at the end of the hall on your right and then go up the second staircase you see. At the top, the door on the left is a fake door and you'll end up back at the bottom, but if you take the right you'll be in the second level of the great hall. You go up the stairs in front of you, but watch out for the trick step at the top, and take a left, and then a short right - at the end of that hall by the picture of Middie the Rat is the hospital wing. Do you have that?"  
  
June looked unsure. She obviously had not caught a word he said. "That's okay," she said. "I'll find it." She looked doubtful.  
  
"Why don't I bring you back?" he suggested.  
  
After convincing her it was no problem, he started to show her the way.  
  
"I don't get injured much," she said as they walked. "Which I guess is a miracle because I'm always tripping over stuff. Llian and I lived in one apartment for almost two years and there was this ironing board that stuck out two inches besides the sink, and I walked into it every time I walked past! Even the last day when we were packing, I walked into it one more time for good measure! Llian couldn't breathe for nearly half and hour, he was laughing so hard!"  
  
Neville laughed. "I'm a bit of a klutz myself. Your father hates me because I'm always breaking things in his class and putting the wrong ingredients in the wrong cauldron," he said.  
  
"You don't like my Papa, do you?" she asked.  
  
He hesitated before answering, "He's not my favorite teacher."  
  
She laughed. "Really? I don't think I'll enjoy potions very much. He's probably an excellent teacher, but I probably won't like his method of teaching. It's probably the Volari blood in me, too. The Volari have little use for potions - no talent at all, really. I - awk!"  
  
Her foot caught in the trick step. "Oh, no - I'm such a dork!" she exclaimed.  
  
Neville assured her that his classmates, well at least he, would still be caught off guard by the trick step even last year.  
  
"I need to start learning my way around this place - I don't even know how to get to the great hall! I have to follow people's auras to reach anyplace." She was silent for a second, and then glanced at Neville shyly. "Do you think, I mean if you're not busy, could you - I mean, would you mind showing me around more?"  
  
Neville felt his heart race. "Uh, sure." Lame. That was so lame. He wanted to punch himself. There was no one else on this hallway. He looked at June. She looked pale and tired. "But maybe another day." He had forgotten what she had been through only three days ago.  
  
He stopped. "Darn!"  
  
"What is it?" June asked.  
  
"We're lost." 


	14. Lessons

Lessons

------

Angelina, the new Gryffindor Quidditch team captain, pulled Harry aside from the busy hallway.

"Do you have a minute?" she asked.

"Sure. I wanted to apologize for being late yesterday anyway. I was in the hospital wing visiting June and -"

"That's fine, Harry. You were only five minutes late. That's not what I wanted to talk to you about."

"Oh?"

"Maybe we should sit down first." They went out into the courtyard and sat under a tree. "I've just been to see Dumbledore," she said. "We had a little talk about you, in fact, along with Professor McGonagall. He told me about your gift."

"Oh. I won't let it come in the way of Quidditch, I promise. I can fly fine with the headaches. I'd play even if it killed me."

"That's precisely what Dumbledore was worried about. I can't pretend to know a lot about this gift of yours, but Dumbledore told me it can often affect you physically."

"That's nothing! I just have trouble sleeping sometimes is all!"

"We can't have you falling off your broom. He said that there may very well come a time during the year when you won't be able to play. It sounded like, however it's affecting you now, the worst is yet to come."

He was silent.

"It's not the end of the world, Harry - all he suggested was that we train someone to be co-Seeker in case it does happen."

"But it might not!" He didn't even know what Dumbledore had been referring to. He was becoming increasingly irked by the number of secrets the Headmaster was keeping from him.

"He seemed to think it very likely would. Harry, I'm sorry we talked behind your back about this, but you never talk about yourself. You probably would fly even if you were seriously hurting."

"It isn't fair!" he insisted. "Nothing's going to stop me from flying - I won't let it!"

"Calm down. You'll still be the Seeker. Now we'll simply have another as a precaution."

Harry was furious. Why was everyone else trying to tell him that they knew him better than he knew himself? He started to stand, but Angelina pulled him robes.

"Listen to me. This is just a game we're talking about. It's very important to me and to a lot of other people, but it's still just a game. I should hope you put your health at a higher priority that catching Snitches." She could see from his face that he did not. "Well, let me put this another way. I'm the team captain and it's my final word. The try- outs will be in two weeks. Keep your eyes out for potential recruits." She stood. "Don't fret about this. I'll see you later, okay?" She started to walk away. "Oh, yeah!" she called over her shoulder. "Dumbledore wants to see you."

Harry ambled down the hallway towards the Headmaster's office. Why was everyone so worried about him? Friends and teachers alike constantly stopped him to ask if he were all right. They all agreed that sometimes he would stare into space with a blank look on his face, and it scared them. Draco was having enormous fun doing Potter-impressions, walking around with a dumb look of his face (not a hard feat for him, Harry thought) and arms outstretched as if he were a zombie.

He remembered his first potions class earlier that week. Snape had called him to the front to demonstrate the making of a new potion. A jar of dried newt livers had been thrust in his face. Harry had stood there for almost a minute, staring at the jar. He was trying to figure out which jar he should take - he was getting better at it but sometimes it was still hard to see which was real and which the reflection. June assured him that it would become second nature to tell the real from the fragmented images. She used to have problems herself when she lived in a Muggle orphanage, and was misdiagnosed with all kinds of illnesses: schizophrenia, autism, and anxiety disorder. He would be able to see as clearly as she now could with practice. But this hadn't stopped the Slytherins' cruel snickers. "Potter's gone bonkers," one had whispered loudly as Harry stared dazedly at the jar. Even the Gryffindors were starting to look at him oddly. He even began to wonder himself if he were crazy, but quickly dismissed the thought. It wasn't a good one to dwell on.

Snape had made no comment about his behavior. But he did give Harry a failing grade for over-boiling the potion, causing it to fall on Neville's toad Trevor. Neville had to take Trevor to the hospital wing. He didn't come back until late at night.

"Was it serious?" a worried Ron had asked.

"Huh? Oh, that - Trevor was fixed in less than an hour."

"But what were you doing all day?"

Neville's eyes became distant. "Talking," he replied. He wouldn't answer any more questions and went off to bed. Llian had started to come for him every morning at 6 a.m. It had only been three days and already Neville could run up to thirty minutes - very slowly, of course. He was so sore that he could barely walk, but Harry noticed he seemed to take delight in the pain. He didn't know why that was, but he wondered if Neville was in some way trying to use the pain to identify with his parents. But Neville enjoyed his runs - it was something new and daring to him. The Snape twins and Neville had become quite chummy, although Neville still avoided their father with dread.

Harry stopped in the hospital wing on his way to Dumbledore's office. June sat on the window-sill, her back to a wall, face in profile. The sunlight streaming in the window made her figure appear to glow. He saw that her eyes were open and blank. Her pupils were dilated, and her breathing deep and slow. She was in dreamtime. He sat on the window-sill next to her, his back to the glass, and joined her.

After the initial jolt, he was flying down the tunnel, trying to find the path she'd taken. He found a trace of her carmine aura and followed it across a vast expanse of space. She had gone deep. He followed the twists and turned of the tunnel until he saw a pinpoint of light ahead. He flew into it. Finally he was out.

She sat on a rock atop a huge canyon. Far below, a river crashed by the rocks. She turned to face him. Her eyes had changed color.

"This is the Grand Canyon," she told him. "Well, my creation of the Grand Canyon. Have you ever been to the States?"

"No," he said as he sat next to her. "Is it this pretty in real life?"

"I added several colors. The artist in me couldn't resist. But it's accurate enough."

"Someday we'll go there together," he suggested.

She frowned at him. He froze and grinned sheepishly. "It's not me, is it?"

She sighed and looked out over the purple-hued sky. "No, it's not."

He felt strangely relieved. "Who then?"

"I can't See it. I wouldn't want to anyway. You know how difficult it is to See things about yourself."

"Yes. And if you do, you always wish you hadn't."

"Always," she affirmed.

They sat in silence.

"Do you think Draco has a chance?" Harry asked.

She didn't answer.

"If you know you should tell Dumbledore! We need to know if he's going to become a Death Eater or not!"

"It doesn't matter what I See. In the first place, they are only possibilities of paths that could be taken under the right circumstances. And, more importantly, he has a right to make his own choices whether we agree with them or not."

"I don't understand you. You could save lives probably - he could kill innocent people. Why won't you tell me for sure?"

She stood. "Harry, you can't prosecute someone who has murder in their veins until they've actually killed someone. That's just the way life is. I've been bitten in the butt enough times to know to not mess with Prophecy."

"What does that mean? Why won't you tell me anything?"

"You're worried that Draco will make the wrong choice. But we have to leave him free to make the right choice, if he wants to." She opened up the tunnel and started to leave.

"And if he doesn't?" he demanded.

"Then he will be killed," she whispered. The tunnel closed and she was gone.

Harry looked back over the strange colored sky. It was beautiful. It was horrible. He followed his own bight green trail back to his body at Hogwarts.

------

Llian was watching them as they awoke. He had a shrewd, calculating look on his face. His face brightened when he saw their eyes had focused and were looking back at him. "Dumbledore wants to see you both," he said.

Harry studied Llian's back as they followed him. What had he been thinking when he had that look on his face? Or hiding.

They entered Dumbledore's office to find Sirius sitting comfortably in a chair next to Florean Fortescue. Severus sat as far away from Sirius as possible, a dark look on his face.

"Please sit down," Dumbledore said as he motioned them to empty chairs. "And feel free to take some tea and cakes." He poured himself a cup and sat besides Professor Fortescue. "I think the time has come to arrange your tutoring sessions. Unless either of you have an objection, Professor Fortescue will pick you up from your respective common rooms an hour after dinner ends on Wednesday and Saturday nights. These shouldn't interfere with Quidditch practice, Harry, as those are during the day."

Harry bit his lip. He had a bone to pick with Dumbledore about Quidditch.

"About Quidditch -"

"Now is not the time, Harry," Dumbledore advised. "Florean is going to teach both of you to control and use your gift, as he possesses the Gift himself. He will help you understand it."

June started to stand. "I don't need help," she said.

"Sit down," Snape commanded sharply.

"Why should I stay and listen to this crap?" June demanded, inching towards the door.

Snape closed his eyes and pressed his fingertips to his temples. "Because I am asking you to," he said wearily. "I'm begging you to."

June trembled. "Papa." She shook her head. "Don't make me do this."

Snape opened his eyes. His face was a mixture of concern and despair. "June, sweetheart - please?" he asked gently.

June reluctantly turned back from the door. Her eyes were full of tears. She sat in Professor Snape's lap and buried her face in his robes. He kissed the top of her head and stoked her back. Sirius huffed noisily.

"I know this is painful for you both, but we don't always get to choose every detail of our lives," said Fortescue. "Sometimes we must choose to do things that are difficult and often painful. I had to face this same dilemma when I was a teenager. I didn't want to have anything to do with the Sight, but I chose to learn to control it before it controlled me."

"Then can't you just teach us to control it without out having to learn about it?" Harry asked.

Florean shook his head sadly. "Even if I could, I wouldn't. This is probably the last thing you want to hear, but denying you the opportunity to use it would be the same as denying you a broom."

"But we don't have to use it," Harry insisted.

"It's your power, Harry! Not using it when you have the ability would be as stupid as if you had not used your magic to drive the Dementors off June at the Sorting Ceremony while everyone else was busy arguing!"

Harry winced. He hadn't done it soon enough. He was about to protest that it wasn't the same when June spoke: "How did you first know you had the Sight?"

Harry leaned forward in his chair. He was greatly interested in what the wizard had to say.

"I used to be extremely interested in history as a student. One of the things I studied was the prophecies of the medieval and ancient eras. One day I happened to be talking with a teacher - arguing actually - about an obscure reference I had found. We were quoting passages from the texts of prophecies to prove our points when I suddenly quoted a passage that didn't exist. We couldn't find it anywhere and soon discovered that I had unintentionally made my own Prophecy. I had discovered my Gift."

"What did you do?" June asked.

"After I finished school, I traveled to the great libraries of the world. Maybe someday I'll discuss them in greater detail with you - you'd probably be interested to visit a few of them yourselves. I passed through Hogwarts, with Dumbledore's permission, to research the texts housed here to try to link two ends to a prophecy concerning Voldemort. Of course, that was when my own Gift ignited Trelawney's and she made her predict-"

He stopped. Dumbledore had been making a motion to change the subject, but Florean hadn't been quick enough.

"What prediction?" Harry demanded. He turned to Dumbledore. "You said before that Trelawney had only made two predictions. What was the first one?" He could see from Dumbledore's face that he didn't want to answer. "I thought you were all about telling people the truth!"

Dumbledore sighed. "I believe in telling the truth when it is helpful for the person to know."

"You mean if it'll help you if they know," Harry corrected. He usually avoided being outright rude to people, but he was sick of all the secrets everyone, especially the Headmaster, had been keeping and continued to keep from him.

"I think Harry should know--" Sirius started to argue, but the Headmaster held up a hand as if cautioning a student out of line.

"Harry, you need to understand something - the messenger does not bear responsibility for the message. If I were to predict where the next rival to the Dark Lord would be born and some one went and killed that infant, would its' death be my responsibility?"

"Of course not. So Professor Trelawney isn't to blame, I understand," he said impatiently. "Do you mean she predicted this?"

Dumbledore shifted in his seat. He had merely used it as an example, but Harry had caught on immediately that it had been the real prophecy. The boy certainly did have the Gift.

"She did," Dumbledore confirmed. "And some one did try to kill the child. That some one was Voldemort himself."

"Voldemort?" Harry was confused. "Why would he kill one of his own kind?"

"No!" Dumbledore jumped as if bitten. "The prophecy does not necessarily mean that the child would have become the next Dark Lord, merely that they had potential to rise up next to him. Its references to what side the child would ally with are vague. Voldemort didn't care - competition of any sort had to be eliminated." Dumbledore knew this day would come. He was afraid he had worded everything wrong. This was so painful.

Harry looked dubious. "But I guess Voldemort killed the child anyway, so it doesn't matter."

It broke Dumbledore's heart to hurt Harry after he had been through so much. Even trying to word the prophecy in a more understandable and acceptable way just made it worse. There was no choice, though - once Harry's curiosity had been sparked, he and his friends would find out one their own. He would rather that Harry at least hear it from him.

"No, Voldemort failed. That child was you."

The silence pressed heavily down on the eight beings in the room.

Harry's mind spun. He thought of how the sorting hat wanted to put him in Slytherin, his close affinity to spiders and snakes when he was little. "So the sorting hat should have put me in Slytherin after all." Both Sirius and Severus made small noises of dismay. "What did you do, charm it to have me put in Gryffindor?" he asked bitterly.

Dumbledore shook his head. "This hat cannot be charmed. The only way you would have been put in Slytherin is if we had used a completely different hat than we used on everyone else."

Harry looked around. The adults were watching him with sympathy - they had already known of the prophecy. Sirius looked apologetic. June's face was blank, and Llian was studying the sorting hat with interest. Even Snape had a look of sadness on his face.

"Sometimes we do not understand the purpose behind things," Dumbledore said gently. "As horrible as things seem, they may have happened to prevent even more terrible events. We can't make judgments about time in hindsight."

"How dare you?" Harry whispered. His voice sounded cold and unnatural. His eyes burned into Dumbledore's. "How dare you!" he shrieked. "I don't accept that - I won't accept that! How dare you say that my parents died for a reason! They're dead! And I guess I as good as killed them, didn't I? So don't give me your bloody shit about the purpose behind things!" Harry raged. Why were they looking at him with that expression on their faces?

"Harry -" Sirius tried to reach out to him, but Harry jumped away.

"I hate all of you!" He stormed over to the door. He shouted, "You can take all your goddamn talk about my 'Gift' and shove it!" He slammed the door behind him.

He ended up pushing his way through crowds of students making their way to dinner.

"Out of my way!" he snapped to several first-years. When they saw the rage in his eyes they went white with fear and quickly stepped aside. Students became silent as they saw him. They parted like the Red Sea to let him pass. Even the Slytherins looked impressed. Something had snapped when Dumbledore tried to justify his parent's death. Perhaps he had only meant to comfort Harry, but the implication had hit Harry fiercely.

He stopped. The students gathered around all stared at him in silence. Most looked fearful and uncertain.

"That's right," he addressed the students watching him. "I'm evil!" he proclaimed, jumping at several nearby students who flinched and held back a scream. "Don't you know? I'm the next Dark Lord - destined to be greater than Lord Voldemort himself!" He laughed insanely, a high, sarcastic sound that caused chills to run down the spines of the students listening in horror.


	15. Lima Beans

Lima Beans 

No one had been able to find Harry for many hours. It was early afternoon the next day and he was still missing. His bed had not been slept in. June assured everyone, a frantic Sirius, concerned Dumbledore, and distrustful Gryffindors alike, that he was fine. She could find his location by following his aura if she wanted, but she insisted he needed to be left alone. Dumbledore could have pressed her, but after what he had done to Harry and the boy's erratic reaction, he decided to trust June's opinion. He did have to restrain Sirius from cursing June to find Harry. The godfather was frantic. He roamed the grounds nonstop in dog form, hoping to catch a scent of his godson, but it was near impossible - Harry had taken his broom and you can't follow a scent in the air.

Llian had been silent during his morning run with Neville. June joined them this time, insisting her knee had had enough days off. Neither was in the mood to race, so Neville's slow shuffle didn't irk them. They didn't talk at first, but somewhere during the forty minutes both Snapes broke and told Neville everything that had happened in the Headmaster's office Friday night. He took it in a surprisingly calm manner.

Llian was worried about Harry, but he was also preoccupied with concerns about the sorting ceremony scheduled for that night to sort the twins. He tried to study his fifth year textbooks for the classes they would be starting one week late, but he couldn't concentrate.

"Let's go for a walk," he suggested. He had to practically drag June away from the books she was frantically trying to memorize (she had an intense fear that she'd find herself at the bottom of the class).

They walked down the hallways of Hogwarts in silence. June hummed quietly to herself. In the middle of a hallway, June stumbled over her feet and banged her knee on the hard stone floor. She made pathetic whining sounds as she rolled onto her back, massaging her bad knee. Llian rolled his eyes and pretended to kick her. What a dufus - there wasn't even anything around for her to have tripped over.

A head poked out a door a few feet away. It was Professor Fortescue. "Is everything all right out here?" he asked.

"Yeah," answered Llian. "My stupid sister here tripped over her own feet."

"Ah." He observed June. She stood up and stretched out her legs.

"What are you doing in your office on a Saturday?" she asked.

"Actually, I was eating lunch while going over the lesson plans Binns had outlined for the different years. I was thinking of changing a couple of things."

"Like what?" Llian asked.

"Well, the lessons plans mostly go chronologically, but I believe modern history is essential for student to know considering what's going on right now. Especially this last century is important. I'm thinking of introducing modern history earlier than the seventh year."

"Oh, your lunch smells so good! We missed lunch because stupid June wanted to study - I guess we'll have to go down to the kitchen and make some sandwiches," said Llian, smelling the air coming out Fortescue's office longingly.

"I'd invite both of you to dine with me, but I'm sure that June wouldn't want to."

"How come?" June asked.

"Well, I assumed that you hate me at the moment since Dumbledore asked me to tutor you and Harry."

"I don't hate you," protested June. "I hate the Gift. But I think you're nice."

Florean smiled. He didn't like for people to be unhappy. Harry's disturbing behavior upset him - he hoped the boy was okay. He remembered Harry coming to his Ice Cream Parlor everyday during the whole Black scare, and giving him chocolate-mint and peanut-butter sundaes every hour. Strange that he knew Sirius now, who wasn't a bad chap.

"In that case, feel free to join me. I was starting to get a bit bored, to tell you the truth."

Florean magiced two more plates and they all began to serve themselves as they sat at the small round table by his office window.

"June, eat your vegetable," Llian said. He plopped a spoonful of lima beans down on her plate despite her protests.

"I don't like lima beans," she whined.

"Tuff," he answered.

June said little during the lunch as Llian quizzed Florean on medieval philosophy and prophecy. History, with its too many numbers and names, held little interest for her. Llian, however, reveled in it as Professor Snape did in potions. Like a dog rolling around in a ditch, June thought, or a pig in the mud.

They were all finished eating everything except for the pile of beans on June's plate, which hadn't diminished a bit.

"You're not leaving the table, young lady, until you eat those beans," Llian said in a mock-strict voice. June stuck out her tongue. "Oh, come on - vegetables are good for you. You can't eat chocolate all the time!"

"Why not?" demanded June, her face sulky. Suddenly she perked up and spontaneously started singing a poem she had just made up:

"Lima, lima, lima beans; How I hate those dreadful greens! With a less repugnant smell I wouldn't damn them all to hell. If like cho-co-late they'd taste, None of them I'd have to waste!"

Llian giggled. Her poems were often stupid and sometimes bizarre, but even after knowing her for four years they never ceased to amuse him. Happy randomness pleased him. Picking up his fork, he swiped some of her beans and stuffed them into his mouth.

And promptly spit them out on his plate.

"June!" he exclaimed. "They taste like chocolate!"

"No, they don't." She tried some. "Yummy! Thank you Professor Fortescue."

"For what?" Florean asked.

"For charming my beans for me!" exclaimed June, refilling her fork.

"But I didn't charm them."

June paused with the next forkful mid-way to her open mouth. "Oh, I guess I must have done it without realizing it. Silly June!" She shoved more chocolate flavored beans into her mouth. "Fudge, brownie, cookies beans - are much better than the greens; I could eat them everyday - I allow them all to stay!"

Llian suddenly became pale. "June, do you realize what this could mean? Accidental magic this late?"

June was confused at the look on her brother's face. "What does it mean?" she asked cautiously.

"It means you're a Haran."

June was silent.

Florean's eyes widened. "You have Volari blood?"

"Our mother was a full-blooded Volari. She was a Haran herself," Llian replied.

"Professor Snape never told me. It's a good thing I found out before your tutoring started - it means your gift will work differently than Harry's." He studied both of them. "Declaring someone a Haran is not a thing to be done lightly," he told Llian.

"I'm not a Haran!" June defended.

"Yes you are," Llian explained. "You're a Seer and - I should have suspected it before - a Maker, too. You can create spells!"

"All I did was make up some stupid words and happened to charm my beans at the same time. Any moron can do that."

"But you're constantly making up 'poems' like that, and usually you change things at the same time - like when you made up a poem for rain during a run and it suddenly clouded over and started drizzling. We laughed at the coincidence at the time."

"You said it yourself - coincidence."

"But if it happens too many times, it stops becoming a coincidence."

"I believe Llian is right," Florean said, tasting a bite of June's beans. "Not that many people are Makers. Like being a Seer, it is rare. You should put your talents to use."

"I don't have any talents. And I'm not exactly out to save the world or anything."

"I didn't say you had to," retorted Florean. "George and Fred Weasly are both Makers and they use their talents to make practical jokes!"

"Really, the Weasly twins?" asked Llian. He enjoyed both of their company, from the few times he had met them. They had turned him into a duck with their homemade crackers a few days ago. Genius, he thought, had never been so fun before.

"Yes. I recognized it in them myself, actually, when they tried to feed me a Canary Cream at my Ice Cream Parlor over the summer. I asked to see more of their supplies and it only confirmed their suspicions. They asked that I not tell their parents, and I honored their request, but it did spark their motivation to make even more inventions."

June looked extremely relieved. Llian knew that June feared the discovery of any new talents or strangeness about her. She was constantly being burdened with them: the Gift, the wand.

"I don't want to make jokes, though," June said. "I just want to be left alone for once."

Florean smiled understandingly. "Of course. In the wizarding world being a Maker doesn't entail any obligations on your part, although you are supposed to report yourself to the Ministry. But we don't have to if you don't want to - you won't have any responsibilities forced on you like you would in the Volari community."

June was pleasantly surprised. Being a Haran around the Volari was a big deal, but a huge amount of stress. "Really?" she asked hopefully.

Florean leaned closer. "In fact, we don't even have to tell a soul if you don't want. How does that sound?"

June's mouth was full of beans when she replied, "Gwamph!" She swallowed and started to talk when she suddenly gasped. "Harry - he broke the link!"

A/N: Yay! The author gets to pretend that her own propensity for making up bad poetry during long runs is actually a sign of latent magical powers! Fantasy rocks!


	16. The Sorting Hat

The Sorting Hat 

Dumbledore took the news very calmly. "So you are not able to find him anymore?" he asked June.

"No, I can still find him by following his aura," explained June. "But he's withdrawn so far inside himself that we could no longer maintain the link."

"I have only an outsider's knowledge of links. What does this mean?"

June gulped. "It means that when he comes back we're going to have to keep a very close eye on him. He's a bit out of sorts right now." What an understatement.

Dumbledore looked distressed. "Secrets. mysteries." he whispered to himself. "Do you think I should have told him everything? Should I have explained what his dreams are trying to tell him?"

"No! If that's the way he reacted to just the prophecy. He has to find out on his own. But I don't think he'll be able to come to grips with the prophecy until he can correctly interpret his dreams."

The Headmaster leaned back in his chair. He looked extremely old and frail. "I hate the need for all these lies," he told her. "I almost told him at the end of his second year - I almost told him everything. He seemed on the verge of discovering it by himself anyway. But then seeing how much he took to heart the sorting hat's suggestion to put him in Slytherin. I just couldn't. I lied."

"You did the right thing."

"Did I?" He smiled sadly. "Sometimes I wonder. There's no such thing as a harmless lie. What seems easiest at the time often comes back to haunt you no matter how kindly you meant it. It is often the best intentions that can produce the greatest chaos."

"How so?"

"Just look at Fudge."

They were silent.

"I thank you, June, for bringing this to my attention. As Headmaster, the interests of my students -"

June snorted and cut him off. "I didn't come to tell you because you're Headmaster. I came to tell you because you're-"

June stopped suddenly as the door opened and Professor Snape walked in. "June, would you mind going on down to the feast? Llian is waiting for you outside. I must have a quick word with Dumbledore before the sorting ceremony begins."

June nodded and left. Papa was hiding something up his sleeve - literally, she could see a small bundle at the edge of his left arm. But she pushed her curiosity aside and left anyway.

------

If June was nervous about the coming feast, she didn't show it. Llian knew he certainly was. Whenever his thoughts traveled ahead to the old hat his heart beat furiously. He tried to calm himself by thinking about the History textbook he had been reading that morning.

He was so engrossed in distracting himself that he made the mistake of letting June take the lead. When he looked up and suddenly realized that he had just passed the same painting twice in the last twenty minutes, he stopped and grabbed June's collar.

"What do you think you're doing?" he growled. "We're going in circles."

June obstinately stuck out her bottom lip. "No we're not. I'm quite sure the great hall is in this direction." Llian groaned when she pointed west. The dining hall was to the east.

"Why didn't you tell me we were lost?"

June looked a bit ruffled. "Well, I knew the general direction it was in, so I figured if I just kept walking something would look familiar. Hey!" she exclaimed as Llian grabbed her robes and started pulling her in the opposite direction. "It's not like I was completely lost," she protested. "I know where we are. Mostly."

They were the last people to arrive. The voices of all the students and teachers slowly died out as they made their way to the front. June looked down as she walked, avoiding the peering eyes. Llian waved to the Weasley twins and tried to catch Cho's eye, but to no avail. Harry was still missing, he noted.

In front of the hall was a single stool with the sorting hat on top. McGonagall met them at the front. She looked at them sternly as she picked up the hat and motioned them up. "You're late," she told them. "Juniper Snape!"

Llian gave June's hand a nervous squeeze as she left his side to seat herself on the stool. McGonagall, all business, lowered the hat onto her head. It had barely reached the top of her ponytail when it shouted out, "Gryffindor!"

McGonagall lifted the hat and looked at it in surprise as if its decisions didn't count if it took less than twenty seconds to make. Neville's face broke out into a grin as he jumped on his chair and clapped with all his might. The Weasley twins also jumped up and started hooting and cheering. Their enthusiastic sounds faltered and stopped as they looked around at the Gryffindor table and saw that all the other students were completely silent and staring at June in shock. Neville's mouth opened in bewilderment.

June was beet red. Her bottom lip quivered and her eyes watered. She put her hands in front of her face and sprinted out of the hall before a stunned Neville could stop her.

The entire hall was silent. Neville turned and addressed the silent students sitting next to him at the table, shaking in rage. "What the hell is wrong with you?" he demanded. They stared at their feet in answer. "You don't do that to people! What the hell's wrong with you! How could you do that to her after everything's she done for us? How could you!" he sputtered. "I'm ashamed to be in the same house as all of you!" He turned and ran out of the hall after June.

The Weasley twins were beyond fury at their friend's reaction. They silently departed from the Gryffindor table as one and pointedly sat next to a friend at the Ravenclaw table.

Llian stood rooted to the spot. He silently cursed himself. Everything had been going so perfectly for once! He wanted to cry. June was the kind of person who took things like this to heart. She would blame herself. He avoided looking over his shoulder at Professor Snape. He didn't think he could handle whatever expression he would find on Papa's face right now.

McGonagall was infuriated with her house. She asked them to meet with her in the Gryffindor common room after dinner. They sunk even further in their seats. Her face softened when she turned to Llian. She took a deep breath and lifted the hat as she called him: "Llian Snape!"

As the hat did with June, it made its decision as soon as it touched the top of Llian's head. "Hufflepuff!" it called out triumphantly.

The red-haired twins jumped to their feet and made enough racket to make up for the half of the hall that didn't cheer. Both Gryffindor and Slytherin were silent. But the Hufflepuff house got to their feet slowly until the entire house was clapping. Their faces were hard and unsure, but they cheered anyway, led by the Weasley twins and splattered applause from the Ravenclaw table. Hagrid was sobbing openly. Even Snape ducked his head to wipe his eyes with his napkin. Llian sat at the end of the Hufflepuff table. He felt what seemed like millions of eyes on him. Smiling hesitantly, he introduced himself to the boy sitting across from him. The boy returned his smile and introduced himself as Justin. Before Llian knew it, he was being bombarded by more Hufflepuff names, hands, and faces than he could remember.

He felt like a dirty liar.

------

Llian read a book in the corner of the Hufflepuff common room, waiting for everyone to go to sleep. As it was Saturday night and they had a new member to introduce into their family, it took until past midnight.

When everyone finally settled down for the night, Llian slipped the old sorting hat out of his trunk and made his way back to the common room. He had Dumbledore to thank for the idea. The sorting hat couldn't be charmed, he had told Harry - only a completely different hat would work, like the fake hat which he had made. Fortunately, Llian was a master transfigurer. To pull off such a stunt, he had been forced to rely on his more powerful, but unstable, Volari half. That was why the sorting had been a surprise to him too.

Volari magic was unstable because it relied on intuition and deep-seated emotions. Llian had tried to make a fake hat that would put him and June both into Ravenclaw. He wanted to stay with June and he found Ravenclaw to be the most neutral, unbiased house. But since the powers he used relied on intuition, he figured he must have subconsciously desired Hufflepuff for himself and Gryffindor for his sister. It was because of surprise outcomes like this that Llian preferred using his wand with his human side, which was completely stable and, he found, more natural.

He opened the big window on the side wall of the common room and took off the shirt of his pajamas. He had switched the real hat with his fake one. Now he had to return the real hat, which he had hidden in his trunk, before anyone suspected. Although their sorting was been unexpected, Llian decided it was for the best. Harry and June could keep an eye on each other this way. Plus, Neville and Weasley twins were in Gryffindor. Besides, Llian had quickly become fond of the Hufflepuffs. They were willing to accept him and be loyal to his offer of friendship despite his being related to Professor Snape, who they distrusted. They were unafraid to admit they had been wrong about him once they knew him better.

Llian's hair and finger nails turned a deep teal-blue. His eyes glowed with the same color, as similar shaded wings grew out of his shoulder blades. He flexed the soft leather behind him as he sprang from the window sill into the night air. The wind shipped past him as he glided higher and higher. He landed on the roof outside of Dumbledore's darkened office. He folded his wings back into him. Knocking over things in the dark with his sprawling wings was not a helpful thing to some one who was trying to be as quiet as possible - he had learned from experience. He took out his wands and unlatched the locked windows. That was one of the first charms he'd learned, along with Obliviate and Imperius ones. He had needed them to save June when he first met her.

He stood for a second just inside the window, waiting for his eyes to adjust. He walked over to the shelf where the fake hat stood. Exchanging hats, he started to put the fake one in his pocket while he made his way back to the window.

"Excuse me, young man - you could at least try to be gentle," the fake hat told him. Llian jumped, banging his shin hard on a wooden chair.

"Wha - did you just talk?"

"Of course I did. You could at least have the decency to pretend to have manners. I am pretty old, you know."

Great. Llian had transfigured the fake hat so perfectly that it actually thought it was the real hat. Volari magic - grrrr.

"I was wondering when you'd arrive," a familiar voice said behind him. The torches on the wall suddenly lit, filling the room with light.

Dumbledore was sitting at his desk, his chin resting in his hands. "Sit down, Llian. I suppose an explanation is in order."

Llian sat obediently. Was he going to be in trouble? "Please sir, I know this was wrong to do, but please don't resort is! I'm sure June will be happier in Gryffindor than she would in Slytherin."

Dumbledore smiled. "You are holding the real sorting hat, Llian. That is the hat which sorted you and your sister."

Llian's mouth dropped open. "But how -"

"Your hat was an extremely clever fake. Even I was fooled by it." His eyes twinkled as he admitted this. "But Professor Snape happened to deliver a story June wrote to your room after he had finished reading it. As he dropped the notebook onto your bed, he heard muffled singing from inside your trunk. He found the real sorting hat there, practicing its song for next year. He brought it immediately to my office and we switched the hats right before the ceremony." He chuckled at the surprised look on Llian's face.

"So. June isn't in Slytherin?"

"No. I can see you are wondering how both of you were placed where you were. June is quiet and shy, but she has an inner strength and determination to rival that of any Gryffindor I've seen." Images of his sister assaulted Llian: June refusing to stop her thirteen mile run despite her pain; June insisting on not taking Divination; June's calm face that night when she defended herself against the Death Eaters the only way she knew how. Memories flooded his brain: June's blank face on the white bed, electrodes connected to her head; June hiding her face from the sharp rocks thrown at her; June stopping some neighborhood bullies from hurting a friend, her carmine light racing towards the terrified Muggles; the swarms of crowds chasing a tired and crying June, shrieking, "Witch, witch!" Sometimes even Llian forgot how much she had been through.

"But what about me?" Llian asked. "Hufflepuffs are loyal and trustworthy. I'm sneaky: I lie and steal and manipulate things behind people's backs."

"For the sake of your sister and friends, yes, you do those things. Your loyalty to June would make even the original Helga Hufflepuff proud of you."

Llian had been so concerned about his sister that he hadn't had time to think about himself. He thought of the golden sparks that had flown out his wand when he first touched it.

"Go to sleep, Llian. You've had a long day. I'm pleased that you're so happy in your house - I truly hope June will be too, someday."

Tears gathered in Llian's eyes as he stuffed the fake hat in his pocket and returned the real hat to its spot.

"Thank you," he whispered to it. His throat tickled.

"Not at all," it answered pleasantly.

"Goodnight, Headmaster," Llian said as he grew back his wings and jumped into the waiting air outside the window.

"Goodnight, Llian," Dumbledore murmured as he glanced over his shoulder at the sleeping Fawkes.

"Do you think I should have told them?" the hat asked.

Dumbledore turned sharply. "They don't know?"

"Neither of them has even the slightest clue," it answered. "Should I have told them?"

Dumbledore sighed. "More secrets. Snape has asked me not to. I must honor his request, although I don't agree with it. We can only hope that the strain doesn't manifest itself in the children. It may not become a problem. We'll have to wait and see - and wish for the best."

Rubbing Fawke's sleepy head fondly, Dumbledore dimmed the lights and headed to bed himself.


	17. Potions, Places, and Parties

Potions, Places, and Parties

------

Voldemort kicked a whimpering Wormtail. He was furious that Dumbledore had managed to grab hold of Florean Fortescue. Florean was a strong wizard, virtually incapable of being manipulated (but not impossible - nothing was impossible to the Dark Lord). What's more, his Gift was strong - he would be able to pull Harry back from the edge on which the boy was dangerously teetering. He should have known that Dumbledore would realize how overpowering the Gift really was in Harry. Even during his first year the brat was able to sense things by the pain in his scar. But it was much too early to worry yet. Not that Voldemort ever had to seriously worry about his opposition. He had a talent for knowing exactly what brick to remove or weaken to cause the entire structure to collapse. In his capable hands, humans were as easily manipulated as a child's building blocks.

Peter Pettigrew had been such a brick. But then again, Voldemort had been caught under the falling rubble himself. He wouldn't let that happen again.

It pleased Voldemort to keep Wormtail around to show his men exactly how thoroughly he could break whoever's will he desired. He remembered Peter's tear-stained face almost seventeen years ago. "I will never desert my friends - never! You'll have to kill me first!" the young man had shrieked, tears and sweat running down his face as one as he squirmed in his bonds.

Under Voldemort's command, the Death Eaters had tortured Peter for eleven hours - almost as long as the Longbottoms had later suffered. When the little man was on the brink of insanity, Voldemort had done what was necessary. After forcing an Imperius potion into the semi-conscious man's mouth (that was before Severus joined and helped create a much stronger version of the unstable liquid), Voldemort had placed an irrevocable Binding on him in a ceremony requiring ample use of Dark Magic. Peter's will was effectively Voldemort's, until either of their deaths. The bond had weakened after Voldemort's downfall, but eventually strengthened so much that Peter was unwillingly summoned back to him. Peter was no longer a man - Voldemort owned his soul. He was now and always would be simply Wormtail.

'Most faithful servant' indeed.

"Please, my Lord; instruct me on how to serve you better," Wormtail begged. Voldemort grabbed him by the hair and peered into his eyes. They were terrified, but at the back he spied the small spark of hatred and disgust that remained. Wormtail was aware of what had been done to him and it tortured him more than any curse Voldemort could ever inflict on him. The little man was stronger than Voldemort had thought. He had chosen Peter of the fierce core group of Marauders because he would be easiest to capture and control. It pleased him that Peter was still capable of small degrees of resentment and resistance. He found that over half the fun came from seeing his victims squirm before he killed them.

"We must kill Harry," he instructed. "But it will be a slow, painful death full of madness and despair. You tried constantly last year to convince me to use another wizard for the ceremony to retrieve my body. As your rewards, you will be the one that brings about his death! How would you like to cause Harry Potter pain? How would you like to hurt your friend James's son?"

Wormtail's eyes filled with tears. "It would please me greatly, my Lord."

Voldemort smiled cruelly at the eyes that said otherwise. "We cannot corrupt Florean, but we have other means of controlling Harry's descent into Death's arms." He let go of Wormtail's hair, letting the rat drop flat on his face.

Ah, but it was great being evil.

------

The two Weasley twins let themselves into the Gryffindor common room. They had avoided facing their classmates by pulling several pranks on Filch to amuse themselves and pass the time. Once inside, they started towards the staircase leading to their room, avoiding the eyes of everyone in the packed common room. Ron, Hermione, and Ginny confronted them.

Ron had an apologetic grin on his face. "Can we ask a favor of you two?"

They stared at him. "Why the hell would we help you with anything after the stunt you pulled tonight?" Fred demanded.

"I thought Harry was your friend - you should respect his friends, too," George added.

The harsh words from his normally cheerful brothers wiped the grin off Ron's freckled face. They started to brush past him when Hermione stopped them.

"Look, we've talked about it - all the Gryffindors - and decided we were wrong," she told them. The twins glanced around the room - every listening was nodding in agreement.

"We treated June like crap," Ginny said. "I can't imagine how I could have taken it if I got the same reaction when I was sorted. Neville's right - we should be ashamed to call ourselves Gryffindors. We all acted like cowards tonight."

"We know we can't change what we've done," Hermione said. "But we want to make it up to June. And you guys and Neville, for not being your friends when you guys needed us."

"So what do you have in mind?" Fred asked warily. The small population at Hogwarts could easily become polarized and swing their view from one extreme to the next.

Ron grinned happily again. "Well, we haven't had the opportunity to properly welcome June," he said, indicating to the corner where Dean and several others were working on a banner.

"What can we do to help? Some happy pranks?" asked George.

Hermione lowered her voice as she dragged them aside. "We need somebody to go to Honeydukes."

------

Harry was deep. He had never withdrawn so far away before. Eventually he passed a point where he was far enough away that the link with June couldn't be maintained. He barely noticed.

Without June to guide him, he wandered freely to places he had never been before. Sometimes he found himself at different spots around the world, peering through metaphysical gaps in the structure of the universe. Sometimes he traveled across random people's dreams - he didn't interrupt them. He came across the place that June had referred to shuddering as The Caves. They weren't caves, he saw, as much as holes. Black holes. He watched them from afar. There were fearsome creatures that lived in certain ones, as hideous as anything he had seen in any dream. When normal people slept, sometimes as children their dreams would go so deep that they would come within sight of the caves and wake up screaming with visions of horrible monsters.

There were plenty of creatures that lived in the Void. That was what June referred to this place as, this emptiness between people's minds. June said there were some old Muggle apocalyptic theories that said someday everyone would be united and the space would be gone - then everyone would be in Dreamtime, not just select people with the Gift. As it was now, only someone with the ability to link minds, as June and Harry could, could find this alter-dimension. To everyone else it was invisible and might as well not exist.

Harry wondered if he would be able to find his way back if he entered The Caves. He wondered if he could find his way back now. But he couldn't even remember where he needed to find his way back to, or even why. It was nice here. He could just float around forever.

He entered one of the dark holes and found himself in the huge banquet hall of a castle, empty except for a table at the far end. The walls stretched up as far as he could see and disappeared into what looked to be sunlight. Pale figures roamed the dim hall in groups or alone, some chatting, some drifting hurriedly. Everyone ignored him. Harry trailed along the wall, watching the people float past him. They were all ghosts.

He went towards the table in front. A committee of ghosts was seated, watching a small ghost standing in front of them, a white line of waiting ghosts lining the opposite wall.

"-and always made fun of my glasses. It's not fair! Why should I have to stay at Hogwarts? If she could pester me when I was alive, why can't I pester her when I'm dead? Don't ghosts have the same rights as other human beings?" The whining girl in front of them was no other than Moaning Myrtle.

"Enough!" a ghost in the middle of the table hollered. "Myrtle, the Ministry of Magic has made its decision years ago and there is nothing the Council can do to change it. What's more, appeals are only allowed every five years and you have taken advantage of every single one for over the past forty years. We're sick of the same plea every five years - you're driving us insane! You are hereby banned form appearing before the Council for the next half a century!" He slammed his gravel down on the table.

"But Judge Snickens!" she wailed.

"Enough, I said!" The old man leaned through the table towards the crying girl in front of him. "Council decisions are final and unalterable. Next!"

A pair of big, surly guards shoved Myrtle rudely aside as another ghost stepped up to make his plea. Myrtle leaned against the wall as she walked towards the entrance, whimpering to herself. "Poor Myrtle - no one loves her, no one understands. And she doesn't have any friends. What am I supposed to do? They don't understand."

Harry felt sorry for her. She didn't see him as she stumbled past crying. He put an arm around her shoulders without thinking. Instead of going through her, his arm met resistance. She felt warm. "You do have friends," he told her. "I'm your friend."

Myrtle's mouth opened in shock. "Harry!" she said, squinting through her foggy glasses. "What are you doing here still alive? Only the dead are allowed in here - it's the law!" She looked around nervously. "Walk right behind me and keep your head down," she commanded. "We have to get you out of here - if they find you here they'll kill you!"

Harry did as he was told. His throat was dry with fear. After everything he had been through and survived, he was going to risk his life exploring someplace he wasn't supposed to even be - especially a place like this, and without a guide. Perhaps Professor Snape was right about him. He was just a brat who had to get his own way, even at everyone else's expense. Myrtle took his hand as she drifted towards the entrance, trying to go slowly so as to not attract attention.

"Hey Myrtle!" A white form suddenly appeared in front of them. "Turned down again, huh?"

"That is none of your business, San," she told him. "Out of my way, if you don't mind - I'm leaving." She tried to block Harry from San's view, but the ghost's eyes widen when he saw the boy all the same.

"Myrtle! You brought a member of the living in here?" His voice was extremely loud in the quiet hall.

"Run Harry!" Myrtle shouted, pushing him towards the exit. He started running, but two guards stepped in front of him and roughly dragged him by his arms back towards the Council table. Harry watched over their shoulders in dismay as the door shrank farther and farther away.

They flung him onto the floor in front of the long table. He jumped to his feet. They would kill him, Myrtle had said. He wanted to meet Death head on.

Judge Snickens rose to his feet. "A living being dares to approach the Council of the Dead?"

"Sorry sir - I came in here by accident - I didn't even know where I wa-"

"Silence! The rules clearly state that one who has not died cannot be brought before us. If they do, they forfeit their lives by default. What is your name, boy?"

"Harry Potter, sir." There was scattered murmuring at this.

"Bring out of Book of Records of the Living and the Dead!" he barked. "We must have evidence before we prosecute you and carry out the sentence. It saddens me to do this after what you've done for our future generations, but.. A law is a law. Without laws there would be chaos."

"With that kind of attitude there will be chaos anyway," Harry said hotly. "Laws are meant to be for the good of the people they protect - if a law isn't any good, then it should be ditched!"

"Nonsense." Several small ghosts placed a huge, moldy book in front of him that rose up to his chest when he stood. He opened it and started to look through its pages. "Otter, Par, Pendum, Pollium, ah here we are - Potter. Alisha Potter, a bit farther; James Potter, too far, back up. Ah ha! Harry Potter." He leaned forward to read silently. The entire hall watched him. Finally, after what seemed like hours, he looked at Harry curiously. He read out loud from the book: "Harry James Potter, born to James Potter and Lily Evans July 1, 1980. Died October 31, 1981 of an Unforgivable Curse by Tom Riddle." He looked up at Harry.

"But. Died. I can't have died - I'm still alive!"

"Apparently so. You are the Boy Who Lived, a name given with good reason it seems. Well, that clears up the matter. You are free to go." He picked up his gravel.

A ghost seated to his left sprang to his feet. "But Your Honor, he is alive now - we can't allow that!"

"We can and we will. It is my judgment that Harry is free to address the Council whenever he so desires, if he had reason. The law clearly states that only one who has died may speak before the Council, and Harry Potter fulfills the requirement." He banged his gravel down on the table. "Next!"

Harry shuffled in a daze towards the exit. Myrtle was on one side, San on his other.

"That was fantastic, Harry! Pulling a stunt like that before the Council! I've never seen anything like it before. I can't remember when the last time a member of the Living has daring approached that table, much less been granted approval to do so!" San exclaimed, hitting Harry roughly on the back. "Now I know more people at Hogwarts than just my friend Myrtle."

"Friend?" she scoffed. "How can you be my friend if you never visit me?"

"It's the waiting that makes the meeting so much sweeter!" Sam winked at Myrtle. She blushed and giggled.

"I died?" Harry addressed the sunlight far above.

Myrtle brightened. "Harry we have something in common now - we've both died! You really are my friend; you can visit my bathroom anytime you want," she promised.

"I died?" he whispered again to himself.

"Really, it was a shock to us, too," San said.

A shadowy form blocked their exit. It was the Bloody Baron. He stared at Harry.

"Uh, can I help you, sir?" Harry asked politely.

"Tell. . .tell Severus," the Bloody Baron started to say, his voice distant and misty, his eyes becoming unfocused.

"Tuh - tell him what?" Harry asked.

"Tell my boy that I am his real father. Tell him.." His eyes filled with grey tears. "Tell him I'm sorry for all the pain he had to bear because of my death. Tell him I'm sorry." He started to drift away and stopped to add, "Tell him I love him." He drifted away into the hall.

Even once they were back into the Void, Harry couldn't stop shivering.

------

"Go away Neville." June sat on a large rock near the fringes of the Forbidden Forest. Even as upset as she was, she didn't want to risk becoming lost. Neville stepped out from the large tree he was hiding behind. June had made so much noise tromping through the woods that he thought she wouldn't be able to hear his footsteps following at a safe distance.

"Could you sense me?" he asked.

"No. I saw your aura poking out from the sides of the tree."

"Oh. Can you see your own aura? What does it look like?"

She laughed. "Everyone wants to know what their own aura looks like - no one's even asked me about mine before. No, I can't see it, but Harry tells me it's carmine."

"The same color as your eyes?"

"Yes." There were few people June was comfortable enough with to take off her glasses in their presence, and Neville was one of them.

"Is there any difference in the auras of different houses?" He thought that Slytherin must be full of dark black and green auras.

"Actually, I have found some slight differences overall. Although I noticed that the higher years conform to each other's more than the first years, whose differences are fairly insignificant. But even when I saw them again tonight they were already more polarized after only one week of school."

Neville waited. He hoped she wouldn't start crying again thinking about that night's sorting ceremony. She continued.

"Hufflepuff is mostly full of pastels and warm earth colors, with some exceptions. Gryffindors have much brighter colors, on average - and the most bizarre, I should add. The Weasley twins are bright yellow, Hermione orange, Ginny's a flaming red (kind of clashes with her hair), Ron magenta (definitely clashes with his hair - I can spot him at the other end of the hallway). Harry's is the same sparkling green as his eyes. The Ravenclaws are mostly cool shades, silvers and blues and greens. Cho is sky blue - which reminds me of Llian, who is a deep teal-blue. The Slytherins are by far the most complex. They're often several colors at once, with many layers and overtones. It's hard to describe - you really have to see it to understand."

"What's Professor Snape's like? All black?"

June chuckled. It was no secret that Neville hated Papa. "His is an angry swirl of red and chocolate brown, with black flecks. Sometimes when he's depressed or having flashbacks his takes on a grey overtone."

"Flashbacks? Of his days as a Death Eater?" June had told Neville how she was conceived.

"Mainly from his youth when he lived with his step-father, who was a tyrant." Her eyes became distant.

"At least he still had some kind of father," Neville said, thinking of his own fatherless childhood. "What's wrong?" he asked when he saw the look on June's face.

"His step-father abused him and his brother, Orlando."

Neville paused before asking, "Snape has a brother?"

"Yes, they were twins - I guess it runs in the family. Orlando was too ill to attend Hogwarts so they kept him at home. He committed suicide when he was fifteen."

Neville gasped. "It couldn't have been that bad!"

"It was. I've seen the whip scars all over Papa's back and chest. His step-father used Unforgivable curses on both of them while they were still children." Neville stiffened - she meant the Cruciatus. "He hurt them."

Neville's head hurt. He hated Snape but he felt nauseous at the thought of anyone doing that to their own children. "Didn't the Ministry try to stop it?"

"The Ministry turned their backs. Orlando tried to tell them, but he was mentally ill, so they disregarded his testimony as hallucinations. No one bothered to check - wizards from nice families don't do things like that, they thought. Their step-father was a model citizen: rich, influential, powerful. The Ministry loved him. Papa learned to keep his mouth shut."

"That's horrible! Please tell me that they caught his step-father in the end?" he pleaded.

"I don't know," June admitted. She grabbed Neville's arm. "You can't tell anyone about this. I'm not even supposed to know. I only the know that little bit because I accidentally got sucked into Papa's dreams when he slept next to me on the hospital bed when I was recovering from the Dementors."

"You mean he never actually told you?"

"Not a word."

Neville was flabbergasted. "How can he not tell anyone? Isn't he furious? How can he live in silence?"

"You don't tell anyone about your parents - why should you be surprised that he tells no one about his?" June was the only person at Hogwarts Neville had told about his family. Even Llian didn't know. "Everyone loves to live silently with their pain. Besides, I think he spent all his energy and aggression out when he became a Death Eater eighteen years ago."

They were silent. The trees around them whispered gently in the wind. A mosquito whined by Neville's ear. He waved it away.

"What color is my aura?" Neville asked. "You never told me."

She smiled at him in the dim starlight. "Cinnamon." She leaned over and kissed him softly on the cheek. He felt a surge of warmth flow through his body. They considered the stars overhead in the velvet sky in silence, listening to the sounds of the forest around them.

They managed to find their way back to the Gryffindor common room after only two wrong turns, one 'trip' on a trick stair, and starting up only three different false staircases which ended up depositing them back where they started. June thought she saw a flash of red peer around a corner ahead as the neared their destination, but by the time they turned into that hall it was empty.

After giving the password (cocky-doody), they entered the dark room. When the door closed behind them, the room suddenly became ablaze with light as a monstrous voice shouted, "Surprise!" Floating streamers drifted past a huge banner saying: "Welcome June! The Newest Gryffindor to Our Family!" Underneath these words was a very good drawing of June riding a fierce lion. Cakes and candy and butterbeer filled the tables. The entire house, it seemed, was down here, all grinning widely. June was speechless. Even a smiling Professor McGonagall was here, standing in the back in a pink night robe with lacy ruffles and wearing blue poka-dotted fuzzy slippers. The Weasley twins hoisted June on top of their shoulders and carried her around the room, much to her intense embarrassment. They insisted that she take the first pick of all the goodies on the tables, but she made them eat everything first themselves before putting it in her own mouth.

The food was mostly gone, but the party just beginning when an owl swooped in and delivered a letter to Professor McGonagall. She moved over to a corner and started to read it.

Her shriek brought the festivities to a halt. Her face was pale and eyes red as she stared in horror at the parchment in front of her.

"What's wrong?" asked Hermione.

Tears started to flow how McGonagall's face as she answered, "The Death Eaters have started attacking. My little sister and her husband were killed." The students watched in shock as she slid down to the floor and buried her face in her arms as she sobbed. Hermione and several others tried to comfort her.

Suddenly several other owls flew in and delivered posts to students throughout the crowd. No one wanted to open them.

------

A/N: Orlando, Severus's brother, is so named in honor of my fav character, Orlando Gardiner, from Tad William's Otherland series. The fact that this is also the first name of a guy that plays an extremely cute elf in LoTR is merely a bonus.

Also, the password to get into the Gryffindor common room is from Misery by Stephen King. I thought a certain friend of mine would enjoy that.)


	18. Eliza Bilkes

Eliza Bilkes

------

Eliza Bilkes was the only one left - the small muggle town her parents had lived in was completely destroyed. It was Pattie's fault she was still alive.

Eliza had always wanted a cat and had begged her parent incessantly for one as soon as she could talk. When they found a small black and white kitten half alive in a parking lot three years ago they gave it to their only child for her eleventh birthday. Eliza loved Pattie, who had grown up to be a fierce, territorial cat. She liked to think that Pattie was her alter- ego.

Night romps through the woods were a common occurrence for Eliza and her cat. The forests surrounding the village were gentle and as familiar to Eliza as her mother's blueberry muffins. Last Saturday night Pattie had gone farther than she had ever gone before, but Eliza followed her anyway.

They had been hiking almost an hour when Pattie crouched under a bush. Eliza climbed in after her and rested her head on the dry leaves. She batted at her cat playfully for a few minutes. Pattie soon became interested in a lizard, but then sat next to Eliza in a half-stupor for a quick cat nap, purring contentedly. The entire family took care of Pattie, but she was Eliza's cat. Her dad pretended to hate Pattie, but she knew otherwise. She had once stumbled down the stairs in the middle of the night for a glass of water and found Pattie purring and rolling on the counter while her dad stroked the cat's fur and fed it kitty treats. Her dad emphatically denied having shown Pattie any affection, but Eliza knew his heart had softened to the little cat. Who can help but to love a cat, she thought. Her dad had always said he was a dog person, but Eliza refused to accept one. Dogs were big and loud and obnoxiously stupid - they scared her.

Eliza had pulled out her favorite muggle novel (The Long Walk by Stephen King) and begun to read by flashlight while twirling her long blond hair on her fingers when she heard the first explosion. The ground shook so violently that she dropped her book. She climbed out from under the bush, her clothes catching on the hastily shoved aside branches. The sky to her east was ablaze. In the center of the blood red haze miles away stood thin tendrils of what looked like green smoke. The green smoke was formed into what she recognized as the Dark Mark from the adult modern history book she had stolen from her dad's library. She felt overwhelming panic and dread flood through her.

She had never run so quickly in her entire life. A dark force she hadn't known existed inside of her spurred her on faster and faster. But by the time she reached the edge of the woods it was over. Her village was destroyed. All that was left was shattered timber and blackened bones. Her parents were dead.

The next few days were a daze. She kept on waiting to wake up from this nightmare and walk downstairs to find her mother cooking her favorite cherry pie for her. Every morning she would keep her eyes closed for several minutes and try to imagine her dad's voice waking her and remember his sarcastic, biting humor. She would smile. And then she would cry, because she would never see them again.

She was sent to Hogwarts to live with Aunt Minerva, a kind aging woman who visited her family over the summer from her job as Deputy Headmistress. Her aunt insisted that she didn't have to start her classes and schoolwork until she was ready, but Eliza launched herself right into them. She haunted the library all day and night. The harder she studied, the less she'd have to think about her neighbor's charred bodies.

Her parents had home-schooled her for the past six years, wanting her to have the best and earliest education possible. Both of them were known Arithmancy experts. Her mother used to teach at Hogwarts until she married. They expected their daughter to follow in their footsteps, especially noting her genius in their subject of expertise. Eliza studied dutifully but never told her parents that her heart wasn't in it. They had gone to their graves without even knowing who their own daughter really was. What Eliza really wanted to study was Divination. She had no gift for it herself, but she never ceased to be amazed by the extraordinary things she read - in private, of course. Divination was ridiculed by her parents; she had never been able to bring herself to tell them.

Aunt Minerva worried about her, but Eliza was content to sit in the back of Hogwart's library with only Pattie for company. She was distant to the elder witch. She was vaguely aware that she was hurting her aunt, but she wasn't in a condition to do anything about it. Aunt Minerva was actually her mother's half-sister, and a great deal older - almost enough to be her little sister's mother herself. But they had been extremely close, best friends really. She wanted to talk with Eliza constantly about her parents - perhaps it was the best way for her to acknowledge her grief. But her niece cringed at the mention of her dead parents and avoided her aunt's company.

That was how she found herself in the Hogwarts library late one afternoon almost a week later. The students were typically very polite and sympathetic to her, but they respected her wish to be left alone, especially in view of their own loses. She was studying a new Divination book she'd found when a boy suddenly sat at the same table a few seats across from her. At first she was disturbed by his presence, but he kept to himself and she soon became comfortable enough to sneak glances at him. He was tall and slim - an older student, she guessed, probably in his fifth or sixth year. Once her annoyance dissipated she began to think that he was quite good-looking. His face was long and narrow with strong angular features. His black hair reached to right above his shoulders; his eyes burned into the pages of the history book he was reading. From what she could see of the pile of history books he had placed next to him, he had fine taste. She liked his eyes, their intense darkness. Light eyes (especially pale blue or light grey) just looked downright creepy - her own large eyes were a hazel-green. No, he wasn't very bad-looking at all.

In fact, she thought, he really was quite handsome.

He looked up. Their eyes locked. She felt as if his eyes were drilling into her. She blushed.

He smiled kindly at her. "Hi, I'm Llian Snape. I'm a fifth year Hufflepuff. I just transferred her, actually, started classes for the first time this week. They haven't managed yet to prevent me from reading in my spare time." He was silent for a second, and then cleared his throat. "I'm terribly sorry about your parents and village. I don't think there's a person at this school who hasn't been affected in some way from the Death Eater attacks." He talked openly, but she sensed that he was judging her reaction cautiously. She liked her accent - it reminded her of her favorite Muggle movie star, Brad Pitt.

"I'm Eliza Bilkes." She paused, unsure what to say. "I didn't actually see the attack. I was miles away in the woods when it happened. It was all over by the time I got back." Merlin! Why had she told him this? She suddenly wanted him to stop talking with her. She shouldn't have told him this - she was ashamed that she had lived. Cringing, she waiting for him to tell her that it was all for the best because she was still alive (even if she didn't deserve to be).

But he surprised her. "There's nothing you could have done. Nothing. Look, I know you're feeling really horrible, like you've deserted your family or something. It's terrible to say, but you wouldn't have been able to help - you would've been killed with every one else. At least we can hope that your parent's death was less terrible knowing that you were safe."

"I could have done something!" Was he daft? He had never seen a Death Eater's attack. She was fairly powerful for a fourteen year old. If Harry Potter could fight against Lord Voldemort himself surely she could have helped fight against some Death Eaters.

"No, you couldn't have." His eyes became hard. "Listen, my sister and I were at Harry's house over the summer when Death Eaters attacked. Harry Potter's one of the more powerful wizards I've met and we were almost completely defeated. We were so overwhelmed we could even fight back! That was what was the most terrifying - if we knocked down one, four more would spring up. If June hadn't--" He trailed off, glancing out the window. Eliza had read the newspaper accounts of that attack. It was extremely lucky that most the Muggles in the surrounding area were on vacation or else the death toll would have been considerably higher.

She thought of something. "Hey, are you related to Professor Snape?" She had met the scowling man on several occasions.

"Yeah, he's our father." She was shocked for a second - his manner was so different from his father's. He did look like a mirror image of Snape, though, on closer examination. "Have you met my sister June yet?" She shook her head. "You've probably seen her around before. She's a bookworm - she likes to hide in the library a lot. She has black hair, charcoal grey eyes, and black oval glasses. She the one that keeps on wearing running shorts and t-shirts to class even though she's supposed to wear the standard black robes." The other teachers didn't protest her strange dress because her father was Professor Snape; Snape himself knew better than to try to argue with June. The harder she was pressed, the more she resisted. Snape had confided to Llian that he was simply waiting for June to grow tired of her protestation of the Hogwart's uniform.

Eliza vaguely remembered passing a girl in a messy ponytail and sneakers that were falling apart. She had seen her scribbling in a notebook while perched on a window sill of an empty hallway Eliza had walked through. "I should introduce you to my cat, Pattie," she said. She looked under the table but didn't see the feline anywhere. "Pattie?" She saw a tail sticking out from behind of stack of books a little ways down the library. Llian jumped up to go look.

"Hey, she's playing with something. It looks like a rat."

Eliza looked. "Ew, stop that Pattie! Leave it alone!" She tried to drag Pattie away from the furry creature she was batting around. The trembling rat was missing a finger and a lot of hair. It probably had all kinds of diseases she didn't want to think about. She managed to get a firm grip on the frantically struggling Pattie.

"What should we do with the rat?" Llian asked.

"Oh, it didn't do anything wrong - let it go!"

Llian picked it up by its tail and dropped it outside a nearby window. It sat on the grass and stared back at the two humans looking out the window. "Go on, get out of here," Llian demanded. It stood still for a second longer. Did it want some one to catch it? It turned and quickly waddled away.

Eliza looked back at the section the rat had come from. It was one she hadn't been in before. "What books are back there?" she asked.

"That's the Restricted Section - for books not suitable for young eyes. Some for good reason, too. There are a lot of things books can do to you if you're not careful. You have to have permission to check out a book from there. Madame Price guards it like a hawk."

Eliza looked longingly over her shoulder as she walked back to the table where her textbooks were. She wondered if the library was guarded at night. She'd have to check it out later.

"Hey, it's almost time for dinner," Llian told her. "Do you want to sit at the Hufflepuff table with me? You don't have to talk to anyone if you're not up to it. Everyone will understand."

"Sure, if you don't mind." She could sit and listen to his velvety deep voice all day. Maybe he didn't have a girlfriend. She hoped he wouldn't think less of her because she wasn't in his year. She wondered what her parents would say if they met Llian. She smiled at the thought for a second. Then frowned.

She'd never know, because they'd never meet him.

(A/N: This chapter is dedicated to the original Liza B. Sorry for killing your parents and all, but you'll just have to get over it. That's the price you have to pay for being put in my story.)


	19. The Bloody Baron

The Bloody Baron

------

Harry paused outside Snape's office. He had walked back into Hogwarts Monday morning over a week ago as if nothing had happened. His friends didn't talk about it. By then everyone was already distracted by the Death Eater attacks.

He had put off taking the Bloody Baron's message to Snape. He had actually seen the ghost once, but it passed by him without recognition. Harry had other things to worry about. The strange dreams continued to assault him. Florean (the professor asked that they called him by his first name during their tutoring sessions) had insisted that June and Harry keep a journal of all their dreams. But he infuriatingly refused to help Harry decipher his dreams. Both Florean and June seemed to understand what Harry's dreams meant. Dumbledore knew too. Harry was the only one in the dark.

Last night's dream had been just as bizarre as the others. He had been dressing in his room, putting on purple robes. When he turned to observe himself in the mirror he found his face had turned into sixteen-year-old Tom Riddle's. The mirror suddenly pulled Harry into it while the image of Tom mocked him. He was deposited in a garden full of brightly colored flowers all jumbled together as if the gardener had been blind or drunk. There was a sprawling tree directly in front of him with a wooden swing suspended from a low, thick branch. The summer breeze shook the broad leaves in a wave-like motion. A girl in a white dress swung facing away from him. Her red hair glowed like fire in the bright sunlight. She was humming a nonsense tune and she pushed herself back and forth with one sandaled foot. Harry walked closer until he was near enough to reach out and touch her. She stopped swinging and turned around. There were black, bloodied holes where her eyes should have been.

He had woken up with a start.

The other dreams had been just as strange. He was aware that there was a common thread between most of them, but he couldn't tell what. It was like someone was trying to tell him something. Whenever he tried to ponder on it his thinking vaguely wandered away.

He thought that some of them must surely be induced by the prophecy he had heard. Once he dreamed that he stood by a fire in the middle of the woods, surrounded by figures in black. On figure knelt at his feet. Harry looked down to see that behind the hood was Peter. He was crying. Peering closer, Harry saw that blood was running freely from an arrow piercing his heart. There was no doubt from the terrified horror in his eyes that it was killing him. He grabbed Harry's robes and whispered, "Command me, my Lord."

He had not been able to sleep again that night.

He continued to wait outside the office, reluctant to enter. He couldn't help feeling that he was being manipulated. One side of him didn't want to become involved with what didn't concern him. Another side desperately wanted to know what everything meant. He wanted to talk to June about what happened that weekend, but he wasn't ready to disclose the information he had learned from the Council. Besides, he didn't want anyone to know he had risked his life for nothing. He had practically almost committed suicide.

He leaned closer to the door. Some one was talking inside.

------

"We bloody well better beat them Professor!" Draco drawled over the rim of his tea cup to the man seated across the desk from him. Snape smirked back at him. "There's no way Davies is any match for Flint. And I won't let a girl beat me again." He suddenly stopped as the grin dissipated from his face. "I was about to say that father would kill me if I let her beat me again." He launched back into his analysis of the house Quidditch teams. "It was only a freak accident that Cho caught the Snitch before me that last time - I'm the better Seeker by far! I'll beat her."

"See that you do." Snape leaned back in his chair and nibbled on a small cookie. "Slytherin hasn't won the Quidditch Cup in far too long now. It would be my pleasure to show the other houses exactly what we're made of!"

Draco continued. "Hufflepuff is nowhere near as strong as before. They don't even have a new team Captain - in respect for Diggory they're going to wait almost two months before getting a new one - and that's right before their first match of the season with Slytherin. They'll be as disorganized as hell. Not to mention they'll have to train a new Seeker."

Snape took a side-long glance at Draco. "And Slytherin's Seeker - how is he holding up?"

Draco took a deep breath and looked away. "He's fine," he said curtly. Snape was silent. "Or. He would be fine if everybody would just bloody leave him alone! Everywhere I go, Goyle and Crabbe and Lord knows who else follows me. I want to tell them they're nothing but dunderheads - and that I never want to talk to them again!"

If Snape was sympathetic, he didn't show it. "That would be unwise," he commented.

"I know," Draco said quickly.

Snape suddenly leaned forward. "Draco." His voice was deadly serious. "Draco, you're the closest thing I've had to a son before I met Llian. It's not too late. You don't have to go through with it."

"I - I don't know what you're talking about," Draco lied.

"I know what you're planning."

Draco stiffened. "And I suppose you've blabbed your unfound suspicions to Dumbledore like you do everything else? You've already proved that you're a traitor!"

Snape shook his head. "You don't mean that." Draco sank further into his chair. Potions was his favorite class, and Snape his favorite professor. Snape was closer to being Draco's father than his real one was. But what was he supposed to do? Crabbe and Goyle already had their Marks. He was no longer allowed to show Snape public affection. "And I haven't told Dumbledore anything."

"Why not?"

"Because, Draco, no matter how cornered you feel I want you to realize that you always have a choice."

A knock on the door made them both jump.

"Come in!"

The door opened and Harry Potter stepped inside. Neither one of them was overly fond of the Gryffindor, but they both noticed how pale his skin had become, and how hollow his cheeks looked in the dungeon torchlight.

Harry glanced at Draco. "Can I speak with you Professor? Alone?"

Draco sneered. "I was just leaving after informing Professor Snape that he made a mistake with my Healing Potions quiz last Friday by taking off two points when I should have had a perfect score. I trust you will fix the problem." He arrogantly swept past Harry out into the hall. Professor Snape's words burned inside his brain like acid - he had been having second thoughts about his decision. But it was better to put them aside; it was too risky now to change his mind. Harry's eyes lingered on the cold tea and two plates of crumbs and half-eaten cookies, but didn't mention the blatant proof of Draco's lying.

Snape followed him out into the hall. "Think about what I've said, Draco," he said in a low voice. He returned into his office, shutting the door firmly behind him. "What do you want, Potter?" he growled. "I have better things to do than entertain my students."

"I have a message for you, sir."

"Oh?"

"From the Bloody Baron." This obviously meant nothing to Snape - he waited with a blank, unassuming face. Harry quickly told him what the ghost had said. Snape looked extremely confused - a face he was usually careful to never show in front of his students. He started pacing, rubbing his temples gingerly with his long fingers.

He stopped in front of the fireplace. "Repeat that!" he commanded. Harry repeated the ghost's message word for word. Snape kept his back to Harry as he listened in silence.

As soon as Harry finished, Snape walked stiffly over to the fireplace. "Dumbledore!" The Headmaster's face appeared in the fire. "Get in here immediately!" he barked in a cold fury.

Frowning, the old man stepped out of the fireplace. "What is this all about, Severus?"

"Harry came to me with a message he claimed the Bloody Baron told him. Explain what this means please."

Dumbledore turned to Harry. His wrinkled face was expressionless, but Harry could tell from his eyes that he was the only one of the three who understood what was going on. "And what did the Baron tell you, Harry?"

Harry told him.

Snape confronted Dumbledore. "What is going on, Albus? More lies? More deception?" He peered into the older man's eyes. "What are you hiding from me this time?"

Dumbledore took off his spectacles and tiredly rubbed his eyes. "Maybe we should sit down, Severus. Harry, if you don't mind, Professor Snape and I need to have a talk."

"No!" Snape snapped. Both the other two looked surprised. "Harry was the one the Baron gave the message to. I demand to know why! He's involved now in whatever you have to say."

"Very well." Albus began his story.

"You have been led to believe that your father was Ian Snape, the man who married your mother. I'm sure you knew he was an extremely dedicated Death Eater. Some say that without his help Voldemort would never have risen to such great lengths of power in the first place. But, on one unfortunate night when you were seven, Ian Snape was killed. The man who did this, no one ever understood why, was caught and sent to Azkaban, where he died ten years later. This was what I was also led to believe until I discovered the truth."

"Your real father was the Baron Godric Black."

Sirius jumped up from his chair. "How do you know this?"

"Because the Baron himself told me when he first came to Hogwarts after his death. Please forgive us for never telling you. As you will see from the circumstances, if you knew you may have placed yourself in great danger not only from your step-father, but also from Voldemort, who was bent on killing the Baron and all his kin. His line of the Black family was considered to be renegade, unstable and dangerous for a family steeped in the Dark Arts."

He paused. "Go on then," Snape said.

"Your mother, Ivy, was in love with the Baron. Their relationship, however, was highly discouraged. The Blacks had married into the line of the original Godric Gryffindor and have been in that house for centuries, with some exceptions. Your mother, as you well know, was from a long line of Slytherins. Her father gave her hand in marriage to Ian Snape, who she detested. The night before her wedding, she eloped with Godric, the man she truly loved. To cover it up, the family was told that it was Ian she had eloped with, which would account to both of their disappearances. Godric had been a famous Auror in his time, hell-bent on catching the Dark Lord he heard so many rumors about. But he gave up this pursuit to live peacefully in seclusion with your mother."

"Unfortunately, their happiness did not last long. Ian Snape eventually discovered and killed your real father, and took Ivy as his wife, who was seven months pregnant with twins at the time - you and Orlando."

Severus recalled his mother - a pale, gaunt woman. She often walked through the manor late at night, ghostlike and unseeing. She had shown him and Orlando some small affection in their youth, when she remarried to Ian's brother, Paul Snape, she became distant and uncaring. She had been oblivious to her son's screams and Orlando's death. Severus had killed her along with the rest. Her soul had been dead to the world anyway.

"The man who killed Ian Snape was actually your uncle. He was Godric's brother, Alexander Black."

Snape looked flabbergasted. "I am a. I'm a. I'm not a Snape?"

"No. Sirius Black is actually related to you, which is why is grieves me so that you have never gotten along with each other. Your father's grandmother is Sirius's great-aunt."

"We're second cousins?" Snape looked like he had been hit by a Whomping Willow. "Does Sirius know?" Dumbledore shook his head.

Harry spoke. "But you said the Baron was a Gryffindor - why is he the Slytherin ghost?"

"He asked to be when Severus was sorted there. I believe he has been keeping an eye on you all these years. I'm sorry I couldn't tell you before. It was for your own safety - but now that you've broken all ties with Voldemort I am glad you know the truth."

Severus pulled up his sleeve and looked at the black mark that lay dormant on his forearm thoughtfully. "My father. Wasn't a Death Eater? All this time I had thought. I had thought there wasn't any choice - I would become a Death Eater like my father."

"But in the end you fought him as bravely as your true father did."

Severus was silent for a second. "Thank you, Headmaster." His voice broke. "I thought at first I would be furious with you, but I'm not. Only relieved."

"Um, I guess I'll leave you two then." Harry started inching towards the door.

Snape blocked his way. "Where is he?"

"Where is who?"

"The Baron."

"Uh. I don't know."

"Didn't you just see him?" Snape began to get that familiar suspicious glint in his eyes.

"No." He finally realized what Snape was asking. "No sir - he gave me the message the weekend of the Death Eater attacks. I'm sorry I didn't come sooner, but I didn't know what to make of it all."

"And where precisely were you at the time?" Snape leaned closer, knowing perfectly well that Harry had been outside Hogwarts at the time.

Harry answered truthfully without getting himself in trouble, "Dreamtime."

Thankfully, Snape backed off - but Dumbledore didn't.

"Where exactly were you?" the Headmaster asked sternly. "There are precious few places that the Baron roams freely."

Harry paused. "He was. . .by the Caves."

"The Caves?"

"That's what June calls them. They're like black holes. June says monsters live in some of them. I - she doesn't know what's actually in them." He let out a breath, happy that he managed to explain without lying.

"I see. Thank you Harry," said Dumbledore. As this was an obvious dismissal, a relieved Harry started once more towards the door when he heard familiar voices behind him.

"See, I told you he was here."

"Well, we don't have to be rude about it."

"Oi, Harry - San here was just stopping by to say hi!"

Harry groaned as he turned to find Myrtle and San.

"What are you doing down here?" San asked. "It's downright gloomy. If you like this kind of room décor why don't you just come back to the Land of the Dead again?"

"Harry, everybody's talking about you!" Myrtle gushed. "You're famous." Great. Exactly what he needed right now. "Imagine - the first member of the living to approach the Council in thousands of years - and getting away with it! Everyone wants to hear about my friend Harry - I'm almost as famous as you now. I wouldn't have believed it if I hadn't been there myself."

Dumbledore was thunderstruck. "Harry? You appeared before the Council of the Dead?"

"Er, I can explain - it was an accident, really."

Even Snape looked pale. He asked, "But - he couldn't have - that's a death sentence!"

"We were shocked too, let me tell ya," San interrupted. "We thought he was a goner for sure."

Snape sputtered. "But - but, some one who hasn't died can't meet the Council and live!"

"Oh, that's why it turned out fine," Myrtle explained. "Because they brought out the big book and found that Harry had died - on July 31 fourteen years ago!"

Harry didn't wait to see the reactions of the two men. He fled from the room without looking back.

"Albus, you must talk with him immediately!"

"I will only do so if he seeks me out first, Severus."

"But it is imperative that you make him realize how incredibly stupid -"

"I'm sure he has realized that on his own."

"But surely some punishment is in order!"

"That's the last thing the boy needs."

"What if he goes back to the Council?"

"The Council has already given him permission to do so. Perhaps there was a reason this happened."

"But what if he tries to bring June with him?"

"Severus, the Council cannot harm her either. Have you forgotten so quickly what happened during the sorting feast?"

Snape was silent.

"I think what we must do now is inform Florean so he can quickly train Harry about such matters so it doesn't happen again."

Snape frowned. "I'm scared that he'll drag her down with him," he said darkly.

"Then help them Severus; don't hinder their development."

"Do you really think it wise-"

"Enough! I must ask that you not question me on this or disrupt their training in any way."

"This is my daughter we're talking about."

"Which is why you will not place any more burdens on her than the poor child already has."

Dumbledore gathered his robes closer, shivering in the dungeon's chilly humidity, and started towards the door. He paused before exiting. "Severus, I really think you should have a talk with your own children. You need to tell them about yourself. Who you are. Especially what you are."

"Surely they can guess that on their own?"

"The Sorting Hat has told me they have not. Apparently their vampiric nature is lying dormant."

"Then we have nothing to worry about."

"Still. I would feel safer if you would talk to them. Just in case."

"I'll think about it."

"Goodnight, Severus."

"Goodnight, Headmaster."

------

After hours of fruitless searching and pacing empty hallways, Severus watched the misty, white form float closer. Its eyes were downcast and slightly unfocused. The silver blood ran down its shirt as always. Severus began to see the obvious resemblance he had missed before - the long nose, the dark hair. He stepped out to confront the ghost.

"Father?"

The Bloody Baron paused, momentarily distracted from his dreaming. He looked at Severus in amazement. "My son?" he whispered. "Do you forgive me?"

Severus felt the corner of his eyes begin to smart. "Of course." He had so much to say - so much he had to tell the ghost in front of him and so much to learn.

The white form smiled sadly and continued to drift down the hall away from Severus, his eyes becoming unfocused once again.


	20. Quidditch Tryouts

Quidditch Tryouts

------

Ginny had been extremely nervous all week, but the day of the Quidditch tryouts she was so nervous she could barely eat. Ron wasn't any help either; he just stared into space, lost in his own Quidditch thoughts, as Ginny was in hers.

The three entered the Quidditch field together: Ginny, Ron, and Eliza. Since Harry had become so distant, Ron had begun to spend more and more time with his little sister. They had become closer than they ever had before, almost as close as Fred and George were, but Ginny knew that Ron missed his best friend. Harry was rarely around, it seemed. And when he was he didn't want anyone to talk to Ron, or anybody for that matter, even June (although she wasn't exactly the most talkative of people herself). Eliza and Ginny had quickly become friends: they were both in the same year. For some reason, when they were together their shyness, instead of being augmented, diminished. Ginny, of course, was the more aggressive and tom-boyish of the two, while Eliza was the bookworm.

What made them inseparable was their common sarcastic streak. Eliza had been sorted into Hufflepuff, but she quickly admitted to Ginny that the hat had wanted to put her into Slytherin. The thought of being in the same house that turned out the Death Eaters that had killed her parents was abhorrent. She had kept her secret guilty, and was relieved to know that the hat had said the same thing about Ginny. Ron also comforted her by admitting that the hat had also tried to put Harry in Slytherin; not just Harry - The Harry Potter. They pondered how many children the hat originally wanted to put into Slytherin that denied the "honor". Slytherin had the smallest population of the four houses. Eliza also wondered how many Slytherin the hat had originally wanted to put into other houses. She knew that a lot of Slytherin had little choice - they were expected to continue what was often a family tradition.

Ginny and Ron were the only ones trying out for the Quidditch team. Eliza found little joy in grasping a wooden stick for dear life hundreds of feet in the air while simultaneously trying not to hurl. But she had no qualms going to support her two friends - they had become a kind of improv threesome, like the Weasley twins and Lee, or the Snape twins and Neville. Ron seemed to have changed a lot over the summer, Ginny noted. Last year he wouldn't have dreamed of spending so much time with two fourth year girls, one of whom was his little sister. But he had mellowed out considerably in view of the attack against Harry, and all the events following. Ginny grinned to herself: her big brother was growing up. Ron frequently tried to bring Hermione into her group, but she had become almost as withdrawn as Harry. She seemed delighted to study with them, but spent little time outside of the library, where she studied continually for the O.W.L.S. Eliza, Ginny knew, would love to spend just as many hours as Hermione in the library, reading and studying side by side, but Ginny didn't place her schoolwork at such a high priority. Eliza's being around her idol, Hermione, wasn't good for her, Ginny thought. Eliza needed to learn to get a little dirt on her perfectly arranged robes, maybe a crack or two on the spine of the books she worshipped and kept in mint condition.

All three were somewhat surprised to see June and Neville in the group of gathering students who would try out for the team. June wasn't fond of flying on a broom - she preferred using her own wings - but Llian had convinced her to since he wanted to try out for his house's team. If one twin was nervous, they often solved their anxiety by dragging the other twin with them. Eliza didn't mind a bit - she could sit in the stands with Llian, who was waiting for the Hufflepuff tryouts which were to follow. Maybe they could talk a bit, if she didn't become tongue-tied.

"Hey Neville!" Ron greeted the boy who was now almost as tall as him. "Are you here to cheer June on?"

Neville blushed. "Actually, I'm trying out. June was afraid to go by herself. I'll probably fall off the broom." He turned to June. "I hope you appreciate this when I become completely embarrassed and have to leave the field in disgrace."

"Nonsense, we'll both do fine," said June, who was nervously tearing a blade of grass into smaller and smaller pieces.

Ginny thought Neville must be extremely fond of June to try out for something he had no chance of making. June seemed oblivious to the fact that Neville was nowhere near as competent as she was at flying. She was too nervous to appreciate it.

Ginny and Ron hoped they would do better this year than they had at the last tryouts two years ago. They both had the same problem: Harry. Harry was one of the team members helping with the tryouts, and Ron couldn't concentrate on catching or throwing anything because he was too busy watching the perfect Harry out the corner of his eye, who never missed a single catch. Ginny likewise had stumbled and made the stupidest mistakes in his presence. He had tried to help encourage them by personally being the team member to throw the Quaffle to them, but every time he did so, they inevitably missed. He was oblivious to the fact that he was only making it worse. This time would be different, they promised each other.

The tryouts were especially grueling this year. They were sorted into groups where they had mock games. Then they had to take turns trying to score a goal with the Quaffle and blocking it, respectively. The students that seemed to be the natural flyers practiced catching balls which were pretend-Snitches. Ron managed to block out the sight of Harry flying overhead to concentrate on the goal. He managed to slip several past Colin Creevy, who was much too small to reach all the throws in time. Ron almost had his skull crushed once when Neville, who was playing beater for the other mock-team shot a Bludger straight at him. His broom had dipped at the last possible second; the shock wave from the ball had thrown him slightly off course.

"Sorry about that!" Neville apologized, even though it was what he was supposed to be doing, minus the murderous intent.

"How are you managing to hit them so hard?" Ron asked amazedly. Neville had become stronger since he started running with the Snapes, who made him do an increasingly bigger number of pushups after each run.

Neville grinned wickedly. "Why, I just pretend that they're Professor Snape's head!" Everyone listening snickered at his remark. Surprisingly, Neville had become more and more open over his dislike for June's father. He was asserting himself more with June around. He knew very well that he would loose several points from Gryffindor for that, but he found he couldn't help himself. Snape continued to abuse him during class and out, even when June and Llian invited him over to a private family dinner in Snape's quarters the man wouldn't drop what Neville called his "evil bastard attitude".

Ron did considerably better guarding the goal post. It either came naturally to him, or the people throwing the Quaffle had little skill - he preferred the former. He was sure he would at least make the reserve team for sure this year.

Ginny was slightly less enthusiastic over her performance. She played fairly well as a Chaser, but enjoyed being a Beater considerably more. The only problem was that she caught better than she threw. Her throws were weaker than most of the boys, which annoyed her to no end. She tried to put all of her strength into the throws, but the bigger boys around her didn't even have to try, it seemed, to send the Quaffle all the way across the field. She was better at catching mainly because she could maneuver between the heavier players to reach the Quaffle before them. What caused her the most stress, however, was when she was placed against Harry to see who could dive down to catch a ball first. Harry would win, of course, but Ginny wanted desperately to prove that she could do just as well as he, or at least close. But Ginny had gotten scared and pulled away from the dive almost half a minute before Harry did. Harry skimmed right down to the ground and pulled away effortlessly. Ginny burned. Harry, being oblivious, as always, to her discomfort approached her. "Let's try that again?" he suggested.

Finally Angelina conferred with real team members and Professor McGonagall while the student trying out had a small break.

"How'd you do?" Ron asked her.

"Horrible. I don't think I even have a shot at the reserves. Did you see how many times Harry made me try to catch the Snitch before him? It seemed like hundreds. I think he was trying to get me to go all the way through with the dive, but I freaked out every time."

"Are you insane? You're completely mental!" said Eliza, her normal cheerful self, as she came up to the two. "You practically hit the ground every time. The only person who dived closer to the ground was Harry."

"Well, it didn't help me, did it, because I never came even close to reaching the Snitch," retorted Ginny.

Angelina came back out. "Ok, guys - I have a list of people we want to stay for a little while longer. The rest of you are free to leave. The list of team members and reserve team members will be posted in the Gryffindor common room after dinner." She began to call out a long list of names. Ron and Ginny were disappointed that they weren't on it. Practically everyone else was. It didn't escape their attention that Neville also was one of the few who wasn't asked to stay.

They walked back to the common room in dejected silence.

------

Neville, even though he knew he had no chance of making the team, was very disappointed. He had rather enjoyed himself. He wished he could play more. Llian often dragged him and June out on Saturday mornings after runs to go play an improv game of Quidditch. But with Llian it was often more interesting as he made up his own rules as he went along to adjust to game for three players - or more, if any one hanging around the common room wanted to come. He didn't even stay to watch June finish but walked back with Ginny, Ron, and Eliza.

"I'm really disappointed," he admitted to them. They looked at him in surprise. They hadn't expected that he had actually cared about something that he was not very great at. "Don't look at me like that - I know I'm not any good, but still. I mean, I really enjoyed playing. But I guess I'm glad I tried out - it was a lot of fun, wasn't it?"

"I had thought it was," Ron said. "Everything was going great until I didn't even get called back. I can't believe they're not even considering me!" Neville didn't comment. He hadn't actually seen much of Ron's playing, but he did know that his red-haired friend had a propensity to inflate his ego beyond normal proportions.

"I sucked," Ginny said blatantly.

"You did fine!" Eliza protested.

"Whatever," Ginny muttered disdainfully. She didn't want to talk about it anymore. "Can you guys help me with my Boggart essay? I've never actually had experience with one."

Dinner was spent for Ron and Ginny trying to ignore their more gifted Quidditch playing classmates. They sat at the end, trying to not hear the hushed discussions of who would or wouldn't make the teams this year and which team would be strongest. The entire school, it seemed, had caught the Quidditch-fever. Harry sat down next to them, in a rare fit of normality, and started trying to engage Ginny in a discussion of Quidditch strategies for Seekers. She blushed furiously, angrily remembering the thousands of little things she could have done better during the tryouts. Both Ron and Ginny quickly became annoyed with Harry and excused themselves from the table to work together on Ginny's essay.

They goofed off in the library looking at weird books ("Can you believe this? Who would want a book solely dedicated to hair potions? Perhaps we should give this as a birthday present to Snape!"). They were avoiding going back and seeing the bit of parchment that would be taped to the common room wall, a list without their names on it. Finally, they decided the swarms of Quidditch fans must have dissipated. They were wrong.

The entire house was packed into the common room. A crowd stood before the list, reading and rereading the posted names. Almost everyone was engaged in talk on Quidditch strategies and World Cups. Quidditch fever indeed, Ginny thought. She started to walk back to her dorm room, when Ron stopped her.

"We might as well see who made it so we can congratulate them instead of just being sore losers," he suggested.

"You mean extremely jealous, green-eyed, bitter sore losers," Ginny corrected him. They tried to make their way through the swarm of kids around the list. Most of them were second and third years, but Ginny couldn't see over them. On their way towards it they passed Fred and George engaged deep in conversation with Angelina.

"She's a natural flier, and light on her broom," Angelina was saying. "I'm sure Harry will enjoy working with her." Ginny didn't know who they were referring to yet, but it made steam flow out of her ears.

"You mean she'll enjoy working with Harry," corrected Fred. They went on to discuss whoever the new Keeper was.

"With those long arms, if he doesn't knock out anybody's eye on the way, he can block practically everything!" George was exclaiming.

Ginny pushed her brother forward. "Well, tell me - you're taller than me."

"I can only see the reserve team - that list is on top," Ron protested.

"Well?"

"Wow! Neville is on the reserve team - imagine that! He'll be thrilled - he's a Beater," Ron exclaimed. "Do you realize what this means? Neville has a good shot at being a Beater on the real team next year when Fred and George graduate!"

Ginny smiled. She was happy that Neville had finally found something besides Herbology that he was decently good at. "Who's the Seeker?" She knew she had done horrible, but she still hoped that maybe she had managed to make the reserve team as Seeker.

"Colin Creevy." Ginny wanted to scream. That brat! She was furious - she knew she had to at least be better than him.

"Who's the Keeper?" she asked. That was the position she wanted the most desperately, but she had already learned from the conversation they overheard that it was a male on the real team.

"Er, June is!"

"Oh!" Ginny suddenly didn't even want to see the real list. Even June hadn't made the real team, and she was an excellent flier. Surely Ginny didn't stand a chance.

Ron finally pushed his way through the last students. Suddenly Ron started screaming.

"What? Stop shouting Ron, what are you trying to say?" Ginny demanded.

Ron wrapped his long arms around Ginny and lifted her off the floor and began to swirl around the common room with her. "We made it! We made it! We're both on the team!"

"What?" Ginny could feel her eyes starting to water. Was she Keeper? What was Ron then?

The twins bombarded them with hugs. "We were wondering when you guys would show up," Fred said. "Of course you're both on the team - with that great Weasley blood; there isn't one of our red-haired brood yet who hasn't been on a Quidditch team!"

"We thought we didn't have a chance!" Ron explained. "You didn't call us back."

The twins laughed. "So you were worried about that?" George exclaimed. "No, we could tell you two were naturals - we only needed to sort out the people we weren't sure about."

"What are we?" Ginny asked. Keeper! Keeper! Ginny shouted to herself mentally.

"I'm the Keeper," Ron said. Ginny's smile tapered. "And you'll be co- Seeker with Harry."

It took several seconds for this to sink in. Ginny squealed in delight and threw her arms around Ron once more. They danced around the room in joy, a swirling, tangled mass of red hair.

------

Llian slid into the seat next to June. "How'd you do?" he asked, keeping his voice low so as to not annoy the librarian, who he held in high esteem.

"I'm on the reserve team - Keeper," she said glumly. She wasn't crazy about brooms in general, but she loved flying and considered it an insult to her Volari nature that she hadn't made the team, even though she didn't really want to. You're so vain, she chastised herself. Llian congratulated her. "And Neville is the reserve Beater. I guess that means he'll probably be the Beater next year. He's really excited."

"And you're not?" said Llian, reading her monotone voice.

She sighed. "I don't know. I didn't really want to be on the team, but I expected to. I'm just a spoiled brat I guess. I don't know."

"I do."

"Oh?"

"You're just a sore loser. You always have been - it's just your nature. You still don't care about the team but you're mad because somebody beat you."

June thought about it and realized he was right. "So I'm a sore loser and a spoiled brat," she conceded. He didn't argue. "And how did you do during the Hufflepuff tryouts?"

Llian grinned widely, barely able to contain his joy. "I'm the new Seeker!"

"Oh, Llian, that's great! It's just what you've always wanted! I'm so proud of you. Why don't we go celebrate? We can throw a party -"

"No, I really don't want you do make a big deal, June."

"Why not? You're the Seeker!"

"Their last Seeker was Cedric Diggory." She was silent. She cursed herself: it was just like her to be stupid and shallow enough to forget such things.

"Well, I'm happy for you anyway. Do you want to help me with my Potions essay?"

"Sure."

June was like the little girl with the curl in the nursery rhyme: when her potions were good they were extremely good, but when they were bad they exploded and singed everyone's hair and caused chaos and near-dismemberment. She tried to blame her lack of consistency on her Volari heritage. In truth, the Volari were exceptionally bad at potions, but only because they found them to be of little use. The only reason June couldn't flaunt this excuse was that Llian was quite good at potions, but then he had inherited more from Severus and she more from Ava.

"I hate potions," she muttered.

"Oh, it's not that bad," Llian protested.

She made a face. "You can say that - you're good at potions. What's more you don't have to be in the same class as Draco."

Llian sighed. "Are you two still engaged in the game of 'Let's see who can piss the other off the most'?"

"He started it!" Llian shook his head. "He's always going on about how inferior the Volari are, and how much better the Veela are. I don't even know what the hell he's talking about. Does he have a crush on Professor Delacour or something? Why should he care so much about the differences between Veela and Volari - not that there's much contest as the Volari win hands down."

"You don't know?" a voice asked quietly. Hermione was sitting farther down the table.

"Know what?" June asked.

Hermione scooted closer. "Draco has wings."

"How do you know?"

"I saw them once when he was alone in the Forbidden Forest. His mother is half-Veela. He's prohibited from letting anyone know, including showing his wings at school."

"Since when are you two on a first name basis?" Llian asked. "And what were you doing alone with him in the Forbidden Forest?"

Hermione frowned, but blushed slightly. "Talking."

"About what?" Llian asked coyly.

"That's none of your business."

"I don't believe it! It explains a lot of things. That's why Draco is able to be so annoying but still manipulative. Veela are great at influencing people - Professor Delacour could get over half the people in this school to do anything for her. It also explains why I felt that strange pull when I first met Draco. Veela and Volari usually share a bond, even though they never get completely along, kind of like Slytherin and Gryffindor. I guess that's almost why the stupid git is so good at potions - Veela are good at charms and potions." June continued to ponder this revelation silently.

"Well, it explains why he's Seeker - Veela are natural fliers, but it must annoy him to have to use a broom," Llian said.

Hermione snorted. "He's nothing special. He bought his way onto the Quidditch team because his daddy bought the entire team Nimbus 2000s, which was the new brooms that year." She was silent for a second. "But I guess he's not a horrible flier."

"Oh. Hermione's starting to admire Draco's flying techniques - who knows what other techniques of his she'll start admiring next." June said.

Llian poked her. She jumped a mile, clutching her side. "You have a dirty mind, little girl."

"I know, and I love it."

Hermione quickly gathered her books to head back to the common room before they could discuss Draco's techniques further.

------

If there was one thing Eliza was good at, it was the invisibility charm. It came in very handy at times - like now. She was walking through the quiet library, careful to tiptoe past the books so as not to ripple a single page. She made her way towards the Restricted Section.

She paused when she reached it and glanced over her shoulder. The library was dark and completely silent, except for the purring of Pattie who had followed her here. If Mrs. Norris came investigating with Filch in her wake, they would find only a naughty kitty who was out of the Hufflepuff common to play in the library.

She walked through the ancient books, admiring their thickness. She loved books. She wished she could stop and read every one of them. Well, not every one of the ones in here. Some appeared to have been placed in the Restricted area for good reason. She passed the most horrid books on deadly poisons and gruesome curses. The variety of books was overwhelming.

Finally, she came to what appeared to be the Divination section. There were books on the art of crystal gazing, numerology, palmistry, astrology, the philosophy of intuition, auras, and books of real prophecy. Eliza's eyes locked on the Prophecies. The real thing! She would have to be careful, she decided. Some of these books, she had learned, could only be read by a true Seer, which she was not but desperately wanted to be. If she attempted to read the wrong book, she could loose more than just her eyes.

She finally found a title that interested her greatly. "The Prophecies of the Children of the Stars." The Children of the Stars weren't actually children, but ancient philosopher/Seers who had traveled the lands bringing their knowledge to those without the Gift. This book had been mentioned in every single Divination text Eliza had read. It was the standard Divination book for those seriously interested in the art. It was often given to interested scholars because it was serious literature but could be read by even one without the Gift. For this reason, it was a standard first book of most aspiring Seers. Eliza picked up the dusty book and flipped the pages past her nose, smelling that wonderful book smell that can only be found in an old library like Hogwarts. She liked it much better than the new-book smell of most modern Muggle bookstore.

She walked quietly towards the front of the library, the book hidden under her cloak. She couldn't wait to start reading it. She had an Arithmancy project due at the end of the week, but it would just have to wait - this was more important.

Eliza walked up the many stairs to the top of the North Tower. It was a place Llian had showed her. She often came here, wishing to catch him here on one of his solitary wanderings. She wondered bitterly if he had shown it to Cho. The moonlight that streamed through the windows lit up the empty chamber at the top of the tower, and reflected off of something shiny in the corner that hadn't been there before. She walked closer and found it was a mirror with strange writing on the side. In the middle of the mirror was herself. She gasped: her family and friends and neighbors from her burned village were all there. It broke her heart to see them, all cheerful and smiling at her. She quickly recognized the magical mirror for what it was and covered the haunting images with the cloth that lay crumbled at her feet. She pushed her parent's faces out of her head. The mirror was false; it would do her no good to dwell on it, or to allow herself to look once more. For if she found the excuse to look into it one more time, she would find an excuse to look a second time, and a third, and would eventually loose her soul into the mirror.

She climbed through the window onto the roof outside. The moonlight was as bright as a Muggle streetlamp. Fingers trembling in anticipation, she opened the book and began to read.


	21. On Pets and Despair

On Pets and Despair

------

June was in a Mood.

Sometimes it would come over her after quietly stalking her for many months and get stronger and stronger until it overwhelmed her. She was indeed overwhelmed.

It had been a horrible week for June. She wasn't sure how it started, but she realized on Tuesday that it had been several days since she had eaten or slept normally. She would sometimes take naps in the afternoon, but now she was taking them all day. She would come back from her classes and plop down on her bed and fall asleep. The thing was, she wasn't even tired. She just didn't want to be awake.

At night she would drag herself down to the common room. After a few minutes of trying to do homework, she realized she'd rather do anything else. So she wearily climbed the stairs and went back to sleep. She had slept through two classes already by the end of Tuesday, inadvertently of course. She constantly forgot what homework was due when. Her classes were spent slouched in a corner in a bleary eyed stupor.

On Wednesday morning, she was once more confronted by her incompetence. As soon as she entered the classroom, almost late, Professor McGonagall had collected essays. Crap! she thought. She had completely forgotten about the darn essay. Professor McGonagall was surprised when June admitted after class that she hadn't completed the assignment.

"That's not like you, June," the professor had said, concern lining her forehead. You don't know what's like me, June had thought coldly. You don't know what's like me at all.

The next day she had forgotten the Vampire essay for Professor Delacour. She didn't even bother to ask after class if she could turn it in late for half-credit.

Potions was a complete mess. Professor Snape had learned quickly that he should pair Neville and June together as a potion-making team only if he wanted the entire class to be killed from the explosion that ensued. The two protested fiercely, but for once the entire class was behind Professor Snape's decision on partnering. Even partnered with Seamus, June had managed to accidentally put in more lacewing than newt lips, which for some reason caused a reaction that made a deadly acid which burned straight through the stone floor underneath. It was the third cauldron that June had burned the bottom out of that month. It had burned the edge of her shoe off, just barely missing her foot. Papa had been furious, especially since it was a mistake she had already made before. He took a whole thirty points off Gryffindor. She had started crying in the middle of class. She didn't even know why she was so upset - surely not over some stupid points. Papa had been unsure what to do with her, and finally shoved her in his office while he finished the Potions class.

She had been crying a lot lately, come to think of it. She had completely freaked out during a Divination quiz. As she was not fond of the class, she didn't bother taking the time to study for it. With the quiz in front of her she was confronted with the fact that she didn't know a thing. You are a miserable, stupid loser, she told herself hotly. She had made up some answers and cursed herself for being such a moron. You are too stupid to be breathing, she had told herself. She had ended up getting the second highest grade. She had no idea why or how. Stupid Divination. Stupid professors. Stupid school.

She was now missing dinner along with breakfast. She just didn't want to go through the effort to launch herself out of bed and all the way down to the great hall. Poop, she'd think to herself upon seeing the time as she rolled over and fell back asleep. The last thing she told herself was, I'll wake up in twenty minutes. She woke up two hours later, halfway through Ancient Runes. She'd curse herself again for being such an imbecile and she scurried around trying to find her books, which were hidden somewhere under bed. Or where they in her trunk?

There was one day when June slept through all three meals. Hermione had wakened her early in the evening, trying to get her to go down to the kitchen for some food. She refused. She thought about getting up to start on the several projects that were piling up, but she couldn't bear the thought of the effort it would require to actually get out of bed and walk over to her desk and start reading the texts. She rolled over and stared at the wall, still sensing Hermione's presence behind her.

Hermione left, but was replaced by Llian, who woke June from her sleep with a gentle shake. "June are you okay? Are you really tired?" he asked.

"No," she answered. "I'm not tired at all. Being asleep is just more bearable than being awake right now." He left.

She awoke to another pair of hands shaking her awake. "What?" she snapped crossly, her eyes still unfocused in the dim room. It was Papa.

He sat next to her on the bed. "Will you drink this for me?" he asked, indicating a vial he had brought.

"What is it?" she asked warily.

"It'll help you feel better," he said. "You won't want to think all the things you've been thinking. You'll feel more cheerful and relaxed. And hopefully you'll want to get up in the morning and go to class."

How had he known what she had been thinking? She shrugged and rolled over.

"June, please," he insisted. She sat up and took the vial and set it on her nightstand. "Drink it now."

"I'll drink it later." He watched her. He knew she was lying. "Look," she said crossly, "nothing is wrong with me. I just don't want to awake right now. I've had a bad week."

"You been having a bad week for a couple weeks now," he commented.

"It'll go away."

"Will it?"

"It always does." He tried unsuccessfully to make her drink the potion, but she refused. He finally left after extracting a promise from June that if it didn't get better and the thoughts didn't go away that she would let him know and drink the potion. She had her fingers crossed, but it got Papa out of the room. She just wanted everyone to leave her alone.

Walking into Astronomy class at midnight, the professor announced that she hoped the class had studied for the test. Test? June racked her fuzzy mind for any mention of a test. She couldn't believe how stupid she was. She was a failure. A loser. She would never do anything with her life, because she never had. She couldn't stand going through life a nobody. She would rather be dead. She started crying after the announcement and was promptly sent to Madame Pomfrey.

Madame Pomfrey didn't know what to do with her either. June rolled over and tried to sleep again. If she was asleep she didn't have to think. She dimly heard Madame Pomfrey tell someone that she wasn't qualified to deal with this kind of illness. Someone else mentioned sending June away somewhere but Llian unexpectedly burst out, "Over my dead body!" He remembered.

June barely remembered the time when Llian had first found her. She didn't remember much about the place she had been either, or the people. But she remembered the doctor. She didn't even remember his name, but she knew that he had been a doctor because of all the degrees and certificates that lined his wood paneled walls. Once a week, someone would bring her to his office, which was a magical place. She would have to sit in an uncomfortable chair and tell him how her week had been. Once she talked enough to satisfy him, she was allowed to play with all the magnificent toys that were in the big toy chest in his office. She liked to take the dolls and invent scenes with them, pretending that they were acting out one of the plays she had written. She said the doll's lines silently, so all the doctor saw was a little girl sitting on the ground staring for hours at the two dolls she held. He had taught her how to hold a bat to play baseball, how to make clay mugs and figurines, how to watercolor in that office. She hated the part at the beginning where she was supposed to talk, but it was worth it because of the toys. She had enjoyed her time with the doctor. But then he had betrayed her.

June knew she was different than everyone else. Her earliest memories of school all traveled along the same line of thought: alienation. She remembered walking over to the swing set and starting to swing next to the popular girls in her class. They huddled in a group, glaring at her. They left to go by the slide. June followed them.

"Can I play with you?" she asked them.

They huddled closer and made a group decision. One girl came forward as spokesperson for them all. "You can't play with us today." June went away deflated. Maybe they would let her play tomorrow. She wandered the playground dejectedly. There was one other kid like her, a social reject that roamed the playground throwing sand at the other kids, but she didn't remember his name or what had happened to him since. She remembered his annoying questions.

"Why do your eyes change color?" he asked.

One of the first things June had learned was that she was unnatural - a freak. She had been taken to a doctor by a lady at the orphanage, who examined her eyes in detail. The eye doctor couldn't find anything wrong with her, although it was a very nice lady who gave her a lollipop after the examination.

She remembered seeing lots of people. Why did everyone want her to see people? There was a lady who came to see her in the middle of every week. They would go for long walks while the lady tried to get her to talk. Everyone wanted June to talk. It would solve all her problems, they said. But she didn't understand - they didn't understand. It wouldn't solve her problems. She didn't have problems. She didn't want to talk. It had been a nice lady, though. She had bought June purple sugary gum.

Then there was the Board. She had no idea who they were. It had been after she saw them that she started seeing so many people. The first time she went to see them she had been seven. They were seated stiffly around a table, straight and proper in their suits. She had sat in a chair in front of them while they grilled her with all kinds of questions. How was she getting along with the other children? Did she sometimes see things? Did she sometimes hear things that other people didn't hear? Did she sometimes have bad dreams? At first she had been reluctant, but they explained that they were there to help her. They understood what she was going through and that it must seem strange and bizarre to her, but they would make everything better.

For the first time in her life, she began to hope. They would understand! They had the answers June needed! So she told them everything: about the Dreamtime and the auras and the ghosts that sometimes came to her and how she could move things with only her mind and how she could create things out of thin air. They had listened in silence, writing constantly on their clipboards and notebooks. She was relieved as she left the room - the people with answers would solve her problems for her.

It was the last time she ever depended on someone else for help. She was taken to a different place after that. She couldn't stay at the orphanage, they said. She was a danger to the other children. She was a danger to herself. She was dangerous, they said. And she believed them.

Then she was at the place with the bars on the windows, and that was when her memory became foggy. Llian later went over her files with her, once he had found her and rescued her. They had been drugging her practically into oblivion. June used to have violent temper-tantrums - an obvious sign of delirium. They never knew when she would start becoming violent towards other people, even though she only showed a tendency to be violent towards herself. June didn't remember all the names they attached to her, but the main one was schizophrenic. The other patients were strange and disorganized. She couldn't relate to them at all. The grown-ups seemed to notice this, but didn't know what else to do with her. It was a bleak existence.

June had been ten years old when she decided she didn't want to live anymore. She was a horrible person - everybody said so. She couldn't do anything right. Whatever she did, it wasn't what they wanted. She continued to throw things without touching them and change fellow patients into lizards. She continued to see a never ending supply of doctors who were supposed to help her. But they couldn't help her. No one could tell her what the Blue Field was where she would magically be transported, or how to control her dreams and how to tell what was a vision and what was real. In fact, she found life a lot more bearable if she just pretended that nothing was wrong.

If she had been good like they wanted her to she wouldn't have started to think about those horrible things, and then they wouldn't have started her on the new treatment. The doctors called it electroconvulsive therapy. She wasn't sure how it was therapy since she didn't remember any of it. One day a week she wasn't allowed to eat breakfast with anyone else and she would scream and throw a fit because they were taking her back to the room with the machine. Her memory became a blur there and came back a day or two after the treatment, her entire body sore and mind numb.

She hadn't liked it. Llian especially hadn't liked it when he found her. He had told her that they were just torturing her and it wasn't right. But it was right, because June had made her carmine light fly. She deserved everything that happened to her and much more. She was a murderer. She hadn't meant to kill him, but.

June was happy to be at Hogwarts, really she was, but she found the classes became longer and longer. All she could think about anymore was the next time she could close her eyes and make everything go away.

Llian and Neville tried their best to drag her out of her bed. They suddenly were full of ideas for picnics and outings and walks of all sorts. Neville visited her every spare moment he had. He would grab a sandwich and apple instead of eating dinner and try to amuse June with the Weasley twin's latest prank, or a joke book he had found in the library. There were here again, this Saturday afternoon, asking her to go for a walk. What did she need to go on a walk for? She sighed and allowed them to pull her out of bed. She had nothing better to do anyway.

Llian held June firmly by the arm. He knew it was very unlikely that suddenly run and jump out the window, but he had learned the hard way to never underestimate her. He remembered the last time this had happened. They had been in Santa Fe, New Mexico at the time. She had been in what she called a Mood. She slept all day, refusing to go to school every morning. After the first week, Llian abandoned all though of going himself. He couldn't leave her alone when she was like this.

He had watched her like a hawk. They ate a lot of soup and sandwiches for those few weeks. Llian was sure to never set the table with knives. He took all the sharp utensils out of the small apartment they were renting and threw them away. He couldn't risk June's hurting herself. But she had been resourceful, as always. If she hadn't recovered, he would never have forgiven himself. When he found her lying on the bathroom floor in a pool of her own blood, he had only blamed himself for not watching her carefully enough. If she hadn't been so weak from not eating, she would have been able to cut deep enough, and he would have lost her.

Neville was full of nervous chatter as they walked along Hogwarts' stone halls. As they turned the next corridor, they ran smack into Fleur Delacour. She looked extremely excited.

"What's up, Professor?" Llian asked nonchalantly.

"I have found ze Boggart!" she announced triumphantly.

She had been looking for one to demonstrate on with her Defense Against the Dark Arts classes. June suddenly perked up. "Can we see it? Llian and I have never gotten to practice on a real Boggart."

"Certainly," the young professor said and she led them back to her office. They stood before the closet door, listening to the slight racket the Boggart was making inside. "Zey are tricky creatures, ze Boggarts. Do you know the charm?"

"Yes, we've learned all about that, we just haven't practiced for real yet," Llian said.

"Why don't you go first," June suggested.

Llian paled slightly. "I think you already know what's going to come out of that closet, and I'm not sure how to deal with it." June nodded. She knew perfectly well what Llian feared the most - a fear that wasn't unfounded. She had seen enough of his nightmares to know. Llian stood silently a few seconds. He turned back to the other three. "I don't know what to do. Can I try it anyway?"

Professor Delacour looked troubled. "I would not like to bring you harm. But I will not stop you."

Llian opened the closet door, waiting for his sister to walk out, bracing himself for the blood he would see running down her arms and neck once again. June indeed did walk out, but there wasn't a spot of blood on her. Llian gasped. She was okay. Before he could sigh in relief, the new June smirked at him arrogantly and drew up her hand, palm eye-level facing Llian. He watched, extremely confused, as she lifted her other hand and slowly pulled down the sleeve of her robe. Nothing could have prepared Llian for what he saw. The Death Mark on her arm burned red. He fainted.

Professor Delacour quickly shooed the Boggart back into the closet and brought a reviving potion from her office to give to Llian. He sat up groggily and groaned, rubbing his eyes. Remembering what he had just seen, he looked guiltily over at June. She was looking out the window, avoiding his eye. He could see that she was shaking. He got up and after tottering unsteadily for a few steps walked over to June.

"June," he croaked. "June, love. I'm so sorry. I didn't know."

She turned to him. There were tears in her eyes. "It's okay. You can't help what you fear. I'm a horrible person, so you're right to fear horrible things from me."

She wouldn't let Llian hug her, even though he itched to.

"June, please!"

She must have heard something in his tone, because she relented and let him put his arms around her. "I've been silly, haven't I?" she asked. "I don't feel so bad anymore. I don't know why. I guess we sometimes fear the same things." She leaned against him. "It's nice knowing I'm not alone, anyway."

Llian shushed her. "You will never, never become a Death Eater. We can't know what that meant. It could mean that I'm afraid you'll turn to the dark side, or that some one will corrupt you, or that you'll be forced to follow in Papa's footsteps. We don't know. I didn't mean it June. I don't want to mean it." He pulled her close again.

Neville and Professor Delacour watched in silence.

"Do you hate me, June?"

June looked completely shocked. "Hate you! I could never hate you - even if you became the next Dark Lord yourself!"

Llian looked unsure for a second but then regained his composure. A wicked glint suddenly entered his eye, not unlike the same look Professor Snape's eyes took when he was about to try out a student's antidote on their familiar. "Your turn," he whispered menacingly.

June paled. "But I won't know what to do with them," she whined.

"Do with what?" Neville asked.

She shrunk down and whispered, "Prickly sticks."

Professor Delacour looked unbelievingly at June. Llian was rolling on the floor in laughter. "Uh, prickly sticks?" Neville asked. "What are those?"

Llian gasped for air. "They're - little - bugs!"

"They're big bugs," countered June.

"Completely - harmless."

"They're creepy!"

Llian finally pulled himself off the floor. "They're little bugs that look like sticks that sit on the branches of trees for camouflage and sway back and forth as if they were part of the branch swaying in the wind."

Neville was confused. "Do they bite?"

Llian laughed even harder, shaking his head as tears streamed out of his eyes. "They're creepy," insisted June. "They sway back and forth even when there's no wind. It's scary!"

Llian conjured a picture of a small light brownish stick-like bug attached to a branch that was indeed swaying back and forth. Neville shook his head and glanced at an embarrassed June. "You have issues," Neville told her. "Are you aware of this?"

"I don't make fun of your fears!" she said.

Llian wouldn't stop. "Australia has some of the most poisonous snakes and spiders in the world, and she's - she's scared of a - of a b-b-b-ug!"

June was furious. "Stop it already!" she demanded.

"Want to know what else she's scared of?" Llian asked.

"What?" asked Neville, scooting away from June as the murderous gaze she had fixed on him was beginning to make him scared for his life.

"Balloons!"

June put her hands to her head and rubbed her temples. "They make loud noises," she explained.

Llian suddenly jumped out at her. "Pop!" he shouted. She punched him in the chest hard. Neville could see she was starting to become very upset. June started to pace in front of the closet.

"Not funny, not funny," she muttered to herself.

"Uh, Llian I think you'd better stop now," Neville whispered. Llian's giggles smothered and faded away as he watched his sister's agitated movements.

"I don't know what to do," she said when she saw their looking at her.

"You could turn them all pink," Llian suggested. June giggled at the idea and turned back to the closet. She stood there for almost five minutes straight, trying to force herself to breathe evenly. Finally she strode forward in fake security and flung the door open, immediately jumping back behind a nearby desk for cover.

Everyone's mouth dropped open.

A round, furry creature the size of a coffee mug stepped out of the closet. Llian had never seen it before. It looked sort of like that creature he had seen in commercials for Honeycombs, a Muggle cereal. It had long, pale pink hair that covered its round body. Two red eyes and a black button nose stuck out from the mass of hair. Its brown arms and legs were hairless and stick-thin. When it saw the four humans staring at it the creature gave a terrified shriek and scurried back into the closet.

June giggled. "It's not so bad. It's so ugly it's cute!" She walked slowly towards the closet. "Hey? Hey little fella?" She knelt right outside it and peered in. The trembling creature scooted even farther back. June began to hum soothingly. The creature seemed to relax and came forwards a few steps curiously. "Are you hungry? Huh?" She reached into her pocket and held out a couple of peanuts she had brought with her on the walk. "You want a peanut? They're tasty." It cautiously tiptoed to June and snatched a peanut and then dived back into the back of the closet. When it saw she wasn't following but continued to hum softly instead, it came back out and started eating more peanuts. Less then a minute later it had gobbled them all down and was snuggling up next to June who was rubbing it affectionately. "Why you're not scary at all - and here I was thinking you'd be some kind of creepy monster!"

"Uh, June, what were you most scared of?" Neville asked.

June blushed. "Well, I had heard so many stories of how Boggarts scared people so badly, and you know how I get scared easily." Llian nodded, remembering the countless horror movies she had watched from underneath the safety of a blanket. "So, I was thinking Boggarts were these horrible, fearsome monsters."

"So.?"

"So, the thing I was scared most of (besides prickly sticks and balloons) is a boggart!"

Professor Delacour looked astounded. "Zat, zat creature is a boggart?"

"I guess so." It climbed onto June's shoulder and burrowed in her hair. She giggled and she played with the squirming creature. Professor Delacour ran to the fireplace and summoned Dumbledore. The Headmaster's eyes widened when he saw what June was holding.

"Very wise, Miss Snape," he told her. "You have decided to be afraid of the object that provides the fake vision of fear, instead of fearing the illusion. Very wise indeed."

"So what do we do now? Put it back into the closet?" June asked.

"I'm afraid not. Its powers have been thwarted now. You broke them, so it essentially has little protection," Dumbledore said.

"You mean I have to take care of it?" Dumbledore nodded. "But what if it doesn't want me to?"

Dumbledore looked at the creature that was affectionately gnawing on June's fingers like a puppy would. "I don't think that will be a problem. You're its friend now, if I'm not mistaken." Neville and Llian came closer to try to pet the boggart. At first it shied away, but after June assured it the fur ball let both boys pet it, although it continued to cling to June as if for dear life. "Now all we have to do is to give it a name!"

June looked down at the creature curiously, her brow wrinkled in thought. Llian exclaimed, "Oh, no - don't let June pick its name. She's always wanted a pet, saying she'll name it something horrid like Fluffy!"

June jumped, causing the boggart to frightfully burrow under her shirt. "That's the perfect name! I'll call him Fluffy!"

Llian looked sick. "You can't be serious - it would be mentally scarred for life! Besides, Hagrid already has a dog named Fluffy."

"How about Pinkie? Cupcake? Sugarpie?"

"Why don't you just give it a real name?" Neville suggested. "Like Oliver."

"Who's Oliver?" Llian asked.

"Well, that was the name of the Gryffindor Keeper two years ago. But I just picked a name at random. Oliver just seemed like a good name for it."

The furry creature immediately started jumping up and down and pointing to itself. "You want that name?" June asked it. It nodded. "Are you sure you don't want a sweeter name, like Muffin?" It shook its head furiously. She grinned and help up and little beast, cupped in her hands. It sat there as if her palms were a throne and it was royalty.

Llian and Neville shared a look over June's head; with a new fluffy pet to distract her, June seemed less likely to brood on her thoughts.

June, oblivious to her friends' relief, cheerfully announced, "I hereby present to you all: Oliver!" The creature bounced up and down happily. "Ollie for short," she added.


	22. The Match

The Match

------

Neville ducked as Oliver sent half of June's spaghetti flying past his right shoulder. Annoyed, she picked up the furry beast and dumped it in her goblet full of water. Instead of getting mad and throwing more things, it merely floated there, looking around contentedly as if it were in a Jacuzzi.

"You are sooo annoying, you little brat!" June said. She might have sounded stern if she hadn't been smiling and giggling at her mischievous pet's behavior at the same time. She had been trying for weeks to figure out what Boggarts eat. Unsurprisingly, there was little literature on the subject. So far it didn't seem to eat much of anything besides plain sugar and chocolate, but every time it did, its hair stood on end and it bounced around like a hyper bundle of nerves. June had been trying to force feed him spaghetti, but it didn't work.

Neville was glad that June had Oliver to look after. She was so focused on making sure that it ate and slept properly, that she automatically fell back into the normal school routine. She now ate three meals a day and spent her class time writing poetry in the margins of her notebook, as usual.

June was back to - well, okay, she never was normal, but at least she wasn't completely crazy anymore. But Neville loved her anyway. The one who was acting insane now was Llian. He sat on the other side of June, watching Oliver's temper-tantrum with wet eyes as he picked at his food.

"Llian, you have to eat!" Neville commanded. "You have a game this afternoon. If you don't eat I'm going to send you back to the Hufflepuff table and they'll make sure to stuff enough pasta down your throat that you won't be able to stand for a week!"

Llian shuddered. "I can't eat. My stomach's all tight and keeps on jumping everywhere. If I put anything in my mouth, I'm absolutely certain it will come right out five minutes later. Or worse, during the match!" Llian had been named the new Quidditch Team Captain for the Hufflepuffs. He hadn't been in their house as long as some of the other team members, but his knowledge and enthusiasm made him an excellent coach. He made even the hardest workouts seem like fun. At first the Hufflepuffs had been distraught that he changed up their practice time from the tried and true to make up his own games and exercises, but they soon began to realize that not only was it making them a better team, they were having fun!

Still, Llian couldn't eat. They were playing Slytherin this afternoon. Neville doubted that Hufflepuff had ever won to Slytherin, and Llian was slightly disheartened that their team would most likely loose the first match of the season. Llian was eating at the Gryffindor table, something not out of the ordinary for him, mainly so his teammates wouldn't see how nervous he was.

"There certainly is a lot of family in the Gryffindor team this year," June said, eying the red-headed brood seated further down the table.

"There's a lot of family, usually in Quidditch teams," Neville said. "There's you and Llian. And a lot of the new team members this year who had older siblings that played. The main Chasers for both Slytherin and Ravenclaw are continuing a family tradition. Sarah Davies and John Flint both had older siblings who played a few years back."

Llian turned to June. "Did Papa play?" he asked.

"Did he play! He was completely crazy about it. Well, he wasn't crazy about playing, just about beating James Potter. He was a Beater for Slytherin, and made James end up in the hospital wing almost every match. I think James had more bones broken from Papa than the number of injuries of all the other teams put together."

"Greasy git probably enjoyed it, too," Neville muttered. "Sadistic bastard."

June rolled her eyes. "You could at least try to get along with Papa."

Neville glared at her. "I'll 'get along' with him, when he gets along with me."

Llian slurped down a bit more spaghetti and excused himself from the table. The Hufflepuff Quidditch team looked on the verge of having a food fight. June picked Oliver out of her goblet and dried him on a napkin. He squirmed and shook his fists at her, but she ignored him. When she was done he scrambled up onto her shoulder and tried to hide under her ponytail for protection.

"Come to the library with me," June pleaded. "I have to look through the books in the restricted section and I don't want to go alone."

Once they were in the library, they found Madame Price, who read the note June had from Florean disdainfully.

"Can't you just pick a book from this list?" she demanded. Florean had given them a list of books he wanted them to look through.

"No, I need to actually hold a book to decide which one I want. That's what Flo - Professor Fortescue said to do anyway. He wants us to look through all of them before choosing a book."

The librarian frowned and brought them to the back of the library and showed them where the Divination section was. "I'll be back in the front, if you need me. Just don't forget to check out whatever book you choose with me." She left them, glancing distrustfully over her shoulder. She didn't want to leave them alone in this section, but Professor Fortescue's note had quite adamantly demanded that she left them alone to make their selection. She normally wouldn't have let Neville come back either, but she figured the boy would keep an eye on this Snape child.

June took one book out to have a furry ball hurl itself at her. "Pattie!" she exclaimed, dropping the book in surprise. "What are you doing back here, you sweet kitty?" June reached down to pet the cat whose fur stood on end. It tried to claw her, but she just giggled and said in a sing-song voice, "You silly kitty!" Neville shook his head. Someday Pattie was going to rip June's throat out if she wasn't careful.

Oliver suddenly jumped to the ground and pulled Pattie's tail. The cat growled and swatted at him. She missed. Oliver made a rude gesture at her. She lunged for him to have the book June dropped fly in her face. Oliver never ceased to enjoy tormenting poor Pattie. He stuck out his tongue at the feline and sprinted for cover. Pattie followed.

"Should we go after them?" Neville asked.

"Nah, they'll be fine. They're just playing," June said. Neville thought it looked more like a fight to the death. June sure had strange ideas of what was playful behavior. Apparently she thought the scratches Pattie gave her were a sign of affection. But she continued to ignore Eliza's claim that Pattie wasn't fond of being petted. June seemed to think that every animal deep down inside really wanted to be petted. In Pattie's case, very deeply.

June took forever, it seemed, to look through all the books. After a while she said, "It's not here."

"What's not here?"

"The Prophecies of the Children of the Stars. I was really interested in that one, but Harry must have checked it out before I got a chance. It's supposed to be like a primer for advanced Divination studies, but I haven't read it yet. I'll just have to wait for Harry to finish." She finally settled on two books, one on Auras and the other the diary of a famous Seer.

June stopped outside the library and put on her best sad-puppy-dog face. "What do you want now?" Neville asked. He had caught on to her little tricks fairly quickly.

She pretended to look hurt and said, "I was just wondering if you would mind walking with me to put my books up."

"Sure."

"To the dungeons."

"Grrr," Neville said. "You know I don't like going down there."

"I can't risk anyone trying to read this diary. It's laced with powerful magic - if someone who isn't a Seer tries to read it...well, let's just hope they don't."

"Okay," he said reluctantly. Maybe Professor Snape would be gone, probably to go the Quidditch match. "The match! It's about to start - we should hurry."

They took a staircase that was supposed to spiral straight down into the dungeons. After going down five flights of stair, they conceded it was probably the wrong one, as the dungeon they wanted was only two flights below the library.

"Drat!" June said.

After climbing back up, they made their way down the hall trying to find the right staircase. Finally June had to stop and follow the faint tracks that Professor Snape's aura made from his frequent trips down to the dungeons. "It's on the other side of the Great Hall," she said. They went down a small flight of stairs to go in that direction, where June promptly stuck her foot in a trip step. She was not amused. It was the fourth time that day she had been fooled by the step. Her books fell from her arms and clattered down the stairs.

By the time they reached the dungeons, June looked at her watch to find that it was nearly twenty minutes into the Quidditch game. "It's okay," she told Neville. "Quidditch matches usually last a couple of hours."

Neville shook his head. "Most the ones at Hogwarts are under an hour. But I guess it depends on whether there's a big difference in skill between the teams." He wondered silently how long it would take Slytherin to flatten the Hufflepuffs. As much as he admired Llian and marveled at his flying, Neville knew that the Hufflepuffs hadn't beaten Slytherin in forever. He hoped that Llian had the sense to be mean right back to Draco. Draco was the Seeker and team captain for Slytherin, and Neville knew he played dirty. He just worried that Llian would let him and be too nice to fight back. Maybe Llian would catch the Snitch before Draco. A smile spread across his face just thinking about Draco's horror if a Hufflepuff dared to catch the Snitch before him.

"What are you doing?" he asked June.

She was sitting on a table, and had already started reading a book. It was the diary. "I'm sorry," she said, not looking up. "I was just glancing through, but I forgot there's a charm on the book so that you have to finish the whole month if you read the start."

Neville sighed. "Well, hurry up then. Which date are you on?"

"July 17."

At least she was mid-way through. Neville wandered around Snape's office, looking in disgust at the various objects held in glass jars that swirled in the greenish liquid, distorted by the thick glass that contained them. He wondered if any of Snape's former students made their way onto this hall of fame. His ears would probably be up there someday, he thought. He could imagine the epitaph underneath the jar of his floating ear lobes: 'Herein lies Neville, He could never Brew a Potion correctly'. He had a fleeting image of picking up a nearby stool and slamming it through all the glass jars that lined almost every inch of the wall. He grinned, closing his eyes and imaging how nice it would feel to wreck total havoc on his enemy's sanctuary. He looked through the bookshelf to find loads of books on Potions. He was surprised: he had expected to find books on every poison available, but instead found an abundance on Healing Potions, and even more on Antidotes for both rare and well-known poisons. He opened the closet behind Snape's desk to find long cloaks hanging bat-like from the ceiling. He saw a trunk in the back. Curious, he entered after a cautious glance over his shoulder and opened the trunk. It was full of small jars that contained a red substance. He looked closer and saw the label on the underside of the trunk top. It was blood.

He shivered. What the bloody hell (excuse the pun) was Snape doing with an entire trunk full of blood? He decided emphatically that he didn't want to know.

He returned to where June was sitting and watched her for a while. Her fake glasses were sliding down her nose. He reached over and pushed them back up for her. Everyone who knew about her eyes assured her that no one gave a hoot if they sometimes changed color, but she adamantly refused to take off her glasses. Neville suspected she had another reason: she seemed excessively scared that she would be teased or mocked because of her eyes. Considering she grew up in a Muggle orphanage, Neville figured it was likely that was a reaction she was used to.

He sat down on the table next to her. She was swinging her legs back and forth, brushing against his leg. He watched her read intently.

"Stop staring at me," she said, her eyes not leaving the page. "You're making me nervous."

"Sorry," he apologized. She was a strange contradiction, he thought. She could be so vain about things like making the Quidditch team or expecting high grades, but then she was so insecure that she made Neville's insecurity look like a joke. Maybe it was precisely because she expected so highly of herself that she was insecure. After every test and paper she would moan and wail about how she had failed, and explain why she was worthless and stupid. But she had not, to his knowledge, failed a single test. He wished she would learn to judge herself more objectively.

He realized he was the one being stared at. He looked up to find June looking back at him.

"Done?" he said softly.

"Yeah," she whispered.

The dungeons were known for being cold and clammy, but he was suddenly aware of how hot it was down here. Sweat started to gather on the small of his back. He wondered if there was something to drink down here, besides blood (the thought of that made him shiver). He wondered why he had sat so close to June. Surely he must be making her uncomfortable, but looking in her eyes, he didn't see any discomfort. The hair on his arm brushed against hers, making tickling goosebumps arise. He looked into her eyes for a second - but found the reflection of the torchlight on her glasses to be in the way. He reached over and took them off. Her eyes were glowing carmine. It took his breath away.

Without really thinking about what he was doing, he slid an arm around her waist and pulled his head down to hers. He had never kissed a girl before. He slightly missed her lips and kissed the corner of her mouth instead. He tried again and this time got it right. Her lips were soft, and after letting a small sound of surprise escape, she kissed him back.

------

June stared into Neville's eyes. She was thinking how warm and comforting his aura was to her when he reached over and took off her glasses. Neville didn't like it when she wore her glasses when they were alone. He liked to look at her eyes. It made her blush that he thought her eyes were so pretty. He constantly told her it was a shame she hid them. But he seemed to understand why she did.

Before she knew what was happening, Neville's hand was on her back and his face was slowly looming closer and closer. He's going to kiss me! she thought frantically. What do I do? A burning sensation rose through her when he kissed her again and she awkwardly began to kiss him back. She suddenly felt a sharp pain in her head, like something was unlocking. Her blood seemed to burn and boil. She gasped at the strange feeling. She wondered if she was going to faint. She tilted her head to the side to try to make some of the blood flow to it, but it felt like all her blood had drained away. Neville started kissing her cheek and then her neck in soft little pecks that tickled.

She looked down at his own neck. Her eyes now burned as fiercely as her head. She could see the blood pulsing through the vessels in his neck, as if his skin was transparent. Her teeth started to burn now, too. She had a horrible toothache, like someone was trying to pull them out. She groaned. What was wrong with her? Was she dying? She felt like she was. She lost sensation of her entire body. Her limbs tingled like they had all fallen asleep. Even her vision darkened so that the only thing she could see was Neville's neck. His thick, pale neck.

She barred her teeth and continued to stare at his neck. Her throat was parched as if she hadn't eaten or drunken anything all day. She tried to warn Neville that something was wrong with her, but it was happening too fast. She leaned down and pressed her burning teeth against his neck.

------

To say that Severus Snape was upset was an understatement: he was furious! He slammed his fist into the stone wall as he walked down the Hogwarts' corridors. He couldn't believe that stupid Hufflepuff had beaten Slytherin!

He didn't know how it could have happened. They had won before anyone knew what was going on. Everyone expected Hufflepuff to take a defensive strategy, but instead they immediately barged down the Slytherin chasers and started scoring goals like mad. The Slytherin had been shocked for a second before racing to put them back in their place. Llian must have known that the longer the match continued the farther and farther behind the Hufflepuff score would fall. Draco had tried every tactic in the book to distract him, but he ignored Draco completely, even when the blond boy "accidentally" ran into him several times, knocking him off course. Every time Llian dived up or down to try to get away from Draco, the Slytherin had flown in front of him. Llian, however, managed to ignore him. Draco was so busy trying to distract Llian that he didn't see the Snitch himself. Llian had pulled up sharply, and when Draco did the same Llian quickly dived. He had been faking! So while Draco was flying up into thin air, Llian dove down in a magnificent swoop and caught the Snitch in record time. The only game that had been quicker in years was when Harry caught the Snitch his first year when Snape was a referee.

His pride in Llian's Seeker and coaching abilities was overshadowed at his own house's incompetence. He had stormed into their locker room afterwards. They all looked down at the stone floor morosely.

"My, my, that was excellent work," Snape said sarcastically. "Really showed the Hufflepuffs what you were made of didn't you? Your Seeking abilities we beyond merit, Mr. Malfoy. And you, Mr. Flint were an excellent Chaser - it is too bad that I did not actually see you chase anything!" He continued to insult his incompetent team. They accepted his judgments in silence. He continued to pace around the room, glaring at the boys in disappointment. The faculty had made bets over the outcome of the game, mainly fueled by Madame Hooch's strong conviction that Hufflepuff actually had a shot of winning under Llian's direction. Snape had just lost loads of money. What's worse, he had just been proved wrong - he had lost his dignity. "Go take a cold shower, all of you," he snapped as he strode out of the room. He heard the massive sigh of seven different people as one as the door closed behind him.

His office door was open. Who would be down here? He wondered if it were Llian. He wasn't sure if he would be happy to see him right now. He decided he wouldn't mind seeing him at all. He couldn't congratulate Llian in public, but his performance had made Snape proud of the flying ability Llian had inherited from him. His pride in his son was equal with his disgust of his house's team.

He walked in and stopped dead in his tracks. In less than an instant of a second he assessed the scene before him. June and Neville were seated with their backs to the door. Neville was had his arms around June and was awkwardly kissing her neck. June was looking down at his neck, her eyes burning a deep red that clashed with their normal carmine. Her teeth were barred to show fangs where there had once been a row of even, straight teeth. She started to dig her teeth down into Neville's neck.

"No!" Snape shrieked in horror.

The two suddenly shot apart. Neville jumped to his feet and faced Snape. His face was a mixture of hurt, bewilderment, and fury. June crouched to the ground, holding her face in her hands. Snape had stopped her just in time.

"Please leave, Longbottom," he snapped, brushing past the boy towards June who was sobbing openly.

Neville blocked Snape's way. "No! You're not going to blame June for this! I won't let you touch her!"

Snape didn't have time to argue with him. He dragged Neville forcefully into the hall by his collar and leaned close and whispered urgently in his ear. "Listen, you fool - I don't have time to explain myself. June needs me and she needs me now. You have no idea what almost happened to you back there if I hadn't stopped her. I need you to leave now while I talk with her. If you stay you'll just make her more upset." Neville looked unbelievingly at Snape. He glanced back into the office, where June was crumbled on the floor, sobbing. He didn't trust Snape, but something was obviously wrong with June. "Get out of here!" Snape commanded, slamming the door in Neville's face. Snape didn't stay to check to make sure that he left.

He swept June up into his arms and carried her to the battered couch in his personal quarters. He held her in his lap as if she were a small child. She clung to his robes, sobbing onto his chest. He stroked his hair as he stared into the empty fireplace, overcome with his own memories.

When her cries tapered, Snape summoned a small jar. "Drink this," he said softly. "You'll feel better." He noted how pale her skin had become. Her cries had become hoarse as if her throat was dry. She sniffed the red liquid curiously. She looked into his eyes. She knew what it was.

"Go on, drink it," he said. She took a small sip, rolling her tongue through the liquid. She gulped down the rest.

"You're a vampire," she whispered.

"Yes."

"Then I'm a vampire." He sighed. "Why didn't I know before? I've been out on the sun for days at a time without feeling faint. And I've never craved someone's blood before. I don't like garlic, but I'm not allergic to it. Why now?"

He thought for a second. "Have you ever been kissed before?"

"No." She was silent for a second. "It didn't come until he kissed me, all the feelings. My blood started to burn and I began to change."

Snape nodded. "It must have served as a catalyst." He rubbed his chin thoughtfully. "I'm so sorry June. I didn't say anything because I was hoping you'd never have to deal with it."

"You should have told me!" she said angrily. "I could have killed him! I was so thirsty I wasn't even thinking."

"I'm sorry, love," he cooed, running his long fingers through her silky hair. "I'm sorry."

"What about Llian?"

"Well, I assume that it will still be dormant in him."

"But he's never kissed anyone before either."

Snape stared at her for a second. "Then I guess we'd better have a family discussion after dinner," he admitted reluctantly. He didn't want to talk about his problems with anyone, especially not his children. Why did they have to suffer the same fate as him? Why couldn't they be saved from the misery that it induced?

June suddenly gasped. "Llian!" She ran to long, high windows and squeezed through onto the ground before sprouting wings. "He said that if he won he was going to kiss Cho today! I think he's serious!" she shouted back down.

Snape quickly summoned a broom and followed June out the window without question.

-----

Llian's vision cleared. The burning sensation that had flowed through his entire body dissipated, leaving his muscles taunt and sore. He looked down. His throat constricted in horror.

Cho lay in his arms, her face pale and bloodless. Half-dried bright red blood oozed from two gashes on her neck.

It had happened so quickly. Llian had kissed Cho and suddenly his veins, his entire body, were on fire. He could suddenly hear and feel every drop of blood in her body. Without thinking, he had sunk his burning teeth into the soft flesh of her neck. She had gasped and convulsed slightly, her hands gripping the back of his robes. They had sunk to the floor together. Llian's head swirled. The feeling that rushed through him was beyond euphoria. He was floating. He was God.

And then everything had returned to normal, and he realized what he had done.

With a sob, he backed away from Cho's still body, his eyes wide in terror. Tears streamed down his face. He heard a gasp by the door. He turned to find little Eliza there, book in hand, ready for an afternoon of reading in the north tower. Her horrified eyes were locked on Cho. She looked at the blood that ran down Llian's chin and at the fangs that now protruded right below his upper lip.

"No. . .no you didn't," she whispered, shaking her head.

Llian crawled away from them both. He felt too nauseous to stand. He buried his head between his knees and vomited. After he finished coughing, he weakly climbed to his feet, leaning against the wall for support. Eliza had run to Cho, and was trying to stop the blood that still ran freely from her neck on the floor. She looked up at Llian, her eyes glaring angrily. "Help me!" she demanded. Llian backed away. He was a murderer. He had tried to kill Cho.

Eliza saw him glance towards the window. "Don't you dare!" she shrieked. "You did this! Now stay and help me before she dies!"

Dies! Llian moaned and scrambled towards the window. He ignored Eliza's frantic screams behind him and hurled himself out of the tower widow.

------

(A/N: Whew! That was a fun chapter! Well, I've never been a vampire before, so for those of you who are like my roommate I'm sorry if some of the details were wrong, but you get the main point. About the Quidditch team members, I don't know who had graduated or not, so I just assumed both Flint and Davies had, and put their siblings in their place. Not very inventive, I know, so sue me.)


	23. Death

Death

------

June and Professor Snape were flying towards the North Tower when they saw Llian jump from the window. His teal wings sprouted as he fell and he soared away frantically towards the lake.

"I'm going after Llian," June called back. "Go help Cho - her aura's gone grey and weak."

Snape nodded and flew into the tower. June sped past, catching a glimpse of Eliza's blond head hung over Cho's black one.

Llian reached the lake but kept on going. June followed. She couldn't fly fast enough to catch him, but she could track him. The sun started to burn June's skin, which broke out into searing rashes, but she ignored it. Whatever she was feeling, Llian was feeling it too. She was glad it was late afternoon and that the sun had already sunk to the other side of castle. Even with the lengthening shadows June was having trouble seeing in the glare.

They flew farther over the forest than June had ever been and out towards the mountains. It was dusk when the ground started to climb upwards and the trees thin. They had both been flying for hours. June hoped Llian would stop soon. He was fueled by a hysteria that seemed to extend beyond her strength. She could usually overtake him flying within five minutes no matter how long his head start was. She loved flying, but she didn't know how long she could keep this up.

Finally, when he had reached nearly the top of the mountain closest to Hogwarts, Llian dived down towards the sparse trees and broken rocks below. June could see him clearly. Her night vision had augmented and now seemed much better than her day vision. She noted that she could see movement better than the scenery below her.

Llian watched her land. His eyes glowed a strange mixture of teal and blood red.

"I sensed your coming," he said. "I've never been able to do that before." June too could feel a greater awareness of her surroundings come over her. She could feel where the animals hid in the bushed around her. If she listened closely enough, she could hear the faint pulse of their blood vessels constricting. Llian glared into her eyes, whose color mimicked his own.

She answered his unspoken question. "Neville kissed me. Papa stopped us just in time."

Llian nodded and looked away.

"Llian," June said softly. He wouldn't look at her. She sat next to him and wrapped her arms around him. "Llian." She kissed him on the cheek. "It's going to be okay Llian."

He turned to her, his face hard. His eyes were full of tears. "No it's not."

He hugged his sister back and sobbed silently onto her shoulder, his cool cheek against hers. Their tears mingled and fell as one.

------

Neville wandered around the halls dejectedly. He had no clue what was going on. Everything had been wonderful, but then Snape had to ruin it. He hated Snape. But what was wrong with June?

He wandered into the library. He sat down at a table in the back, but heard a squeak come from the chair underneath him. He jumped back up to find Oliver there, shaking his tiny fists and grunting.

"Sorry about that, Oliver." Neville picked him up and plopped him on the table. He rested his chin in his hands and watched Oliver run around the table in excitement, looking off the edges as if the cliff before it was an adventure waiting to be taken.

Neville was deep in thought when Hermione sat down besides him. "Did you hear the news about Mr. Weasley?" she asked excitedly.

"Huh?"

"You have been reading the newspapers, haven't you?" Neville shook his head. Hermione sighed in exasperation. "I guess I should start at the beginning. You know that they arrested Fudge, right?" Neville nodded. "Well they removed him from his office, but there was no one as of yet to take his place. You know how slowly the Ministry can work sometimes. Anyway, there was a sudden movement to have Fudge reinstated because a rumor was starting to circle, probably started by Voldemort's supporters, that Mr. Weasley had only gone against Fudge because he wanted to take control of the Ministry." Neville snorted. Only someone who was blatantly daft would truly believe that. Hermione noted his dubious expression. "I know - that's what a lot of other people thought too. The plan backfired, though, because everyone started picturing Mr. Weasley as Minister and decided it wouldn't be such a bad thing. He had so many friends spread throughout the Ministry that he had stronger support than any one else did, especially Fudge. Mr. Weasley is going to be the next Minister of Magic!"

Neville gasped. "You're kidding! He would do that?"

"Yes. He didn't want to do it, but he realized it would be better if he took the position than let Fudge have it back. He didn't want the Ministry to become divided, as they certainly would without a strong leader."

"I can't believe it - Arthur Weasley, Minister. I guess the Weasley children will be famous now."

Hermione shook her head. "There's a war going on, Neville. Mr. Weasley discussed it with his whole family and they agreed to support his decision. It's going to be hard for them, and, might I add, extremely dangerous." Neville was shocked. She was right. Now anyone could try to hurt the Ministry through Mr. Weasley, and him through his family. And it was an extremely large family, some of them still very vulnerable and in school.

"What are they going to do?"

"Percy's going to continue working for the Ministry, but Charlie and Bill are coming to Hogwarts. It's too dangerous for them now to be in the open. Charlie is going to an assistant to Hagrid. I'm not sure yet what Bill is doing." She suddenly noticed Neville's vacant expression. She had always been extremely good at noticing when he was distraught, like when he reacted so strangely to seeing the Cruciatus curse last year in class. "Neville, what's wrong?"

He twitched, startled by her question. "Huh? Oh, nothing's wrong. I'm fine."

"Tell me."

"No, it's not important. I mean, not as important as this."

Hermione had disbelief stamped on her forehead. "If you need to talk to someone, I'd be willing to try to help," she said soothingly.

Neville considered her. She was a girl - maybe she would know what had upset June so much. "Have you ever been kissed before?"

Hermione blushed. "Yes." Neville waited. She didn't elaborate. "Are you wondering about June?"

Neville blushed in return. He glanced around to make sure no one was listening and lowered his voice as he answered. "Well . . . today June and I were in the dungeons. Don't look at me like that, she was putting up her books and stopped to read a bit, so I sat next to her. When she put down her book and turned to me, she looked so beautiful that I kissed her. I'd never kissed anyone before, and neither had she." He paused. "Well, like I said, we were kissing - but then Professor Snape burst into the room and he screamed something."

"What did he scream?"

Neville tried to remember. The shock had made the memory a bit blurred. "I think it was 'No!'. I jumped up, furious at him really, but June suddenly fell to the floor and started crying. And before I could say or do anything, Snape practically threw me out into the hallway and said he had to talk to June. He said something about how I didn't know what had almost happened to me. And June was back in there crouched on the floor and sobbing. He told me to go away and slammed the door in my face. Do you think June was so upset because her father caught us? You don't think it was me, do you?"

Hermione looked at Neville's worried face. "You don't know?" He shook his head, confused. "Snape's a vampire."

Neville gasped. "The blood. . . "

"What blood."

"I found a trunk full of jars of blood in his closet." He saw the odd look Hermione gave him. "I was wandering around a bit while June was reading."

"He must keep them so he doesn't have to resort to drinking from humans or animals."

"But he's evil, wouldn't he enjoy drinking his students' blood." He shuddered at the thought. "But how do you know this, and what does it have to do with June?"

"First off, if everyone paid attention to their Defense Against the Dark Arts essay, then the entire school would know. Remember how Snape substituted for Professor Lupin our third year?"

"Yeah, and he made us skip all the way to the end and do all that work on werewolves."

"Exactly. He gave us all that work because he was hoping that someone would realize what Lupin was. Well, Lupin was probably pretty mad at him, so a decent amount of time later, he skipped a bunch of chapters and introduced vampires." Vague memories of the Vampire essay Lupin had assigned floated through Neville's head. "I realized from those essays that Lupin was a werewolf and that Snape was a vampire - which was, of course, what they were both hoping all the students would do in the first place."

It started to make some sense to Neville. "So you think June must be a vampire, too?" Hermione nodded. "But it doesn't make sense - she's out in the sun all the time running or playing Quidditch or just flying. And she doesn't have fangs or anything. She would have told me if she was, though, because she tells me everything else."

Hermione shrugged. "Neither one of them had the obvious signs that Snape had. Maybe it just wasn't as strong in them. But you said this was her first kiss? Maybe that had something to do with it."

"What do you mean?"

Hermione blushed again. "Well . . . in all the books I've read, vampirism is usually. . . " She paused. "How do I say this? Usually the drinking of another's blood is equated with sexual overtones. Maybe it's the vampire equivalent of hitting puberty." Hermione mumbled this last bit.

Neville didn't care really. He just wanted June to be okay. "She must be so upset if she almost bit me. That must have been why she started crying."

"She does like you very much."

"I know." Hermione raised an eyebrow at Neville's uncharacteristic confidence. "I should march down there to the dungeons and demand to speak with her." He started to rise, but Hermione grabbed his elbow.

"Boys - really!" she said. "Don't you ever pay attention to how girls think? If she's upset and turned away from you, she doesn't want to be reminded of what happened. When she's ready to talk, she'll probably find you. Besides, you know what June's like - you're not going to find her anyway unless she wants to be found. And if what you said is true, she may not have even known she was a vampire - she'll need some time to think about that on its own."

"You want me to just leave her alone?"

"That's the idea." She picked up Oliver, who had fallen asleep curled against a pile of books, and put him in her pocket. "Now, I noticed you weren't at the Quidditch game."

"What happened? How badly did Slytherin beat them?"

"Oh, do I have a lot to tell you!" Hermione grinned. She stood. "Come on, I'll tell you all about it over dinner."

------

It had been a long night. Snape had brought Cho immediately to the hospital wing. There was barely enough blood left in the girl to be alive. Snape had fed her unconscious body several jars of blood. She would live, but she would never be the same. She was one of them now.

Snape had stayed by her bedside all night. He was responsible, of course. It was his fault, and his alone.

Dumbledore had come earlier. He had stood at the foot of Cho's bed in silence. He looked at Snape sitting on a stool besides it. His eyes were burning with fury. Snape could have prevented this. Dumbledore was too angry to even say anything. He shook his head and left without a word. It hurt Snape more deeply than anything the Headmaster could have said to him.

"Severus, go to bed," Madame Pomfrey commanded. She was angry with him as well. "There's nothing you can do now."

He obstinately refused. "I need to explain to her what happened when she wakes up. I believe I am most qualified to do so." He flashed his fangs at her in a grin that looked more like a grimace. He hadn't taken his potion in a while and they were growing back to their normal length.

She backed off and left him.

Severus had just drifted off sitting in a chair in the corner when he heard a soft whimper. He opened his eyes and stretched his legs out. The sun was starting to come up, causing a thin line of glowing light far on the horizon. Cho was moving restlessly. He walked over to her bed. When he placed his cool hand on her forehead her eyes snapped open.

"Professor Snape?" she mumbled. "What happened?" She reached up and massaged the side of her neck, groaning as she attempted to sit up.

Snape pushed her back down onto the bed. "Don't try to sit up yet. I have something to tell you, and it's going to take a while." He sat on the stool next to her. She obeyed, but looked at him quizzically. He was somewhat relieved to see that the distrust he found on most students' faces wasn't on hers. Yet. "It starts a long time ago when I was seventeen . . . "

He told her everything - well, everything relevant anyway. He made sure she understood that it was his fault, not Llian's. After he was done they sat in silence for several minutes.

She looked up at him. "Poor Llian. Poor June. I'm terribly sorry, Professor." Her eyes watered slightly.

"Sorry! Did you listen to anything I've just told you? Your entire life will be changed. I almost killed you!"

"I meant I was sorry what happened to you." He was silent. "But you said this potion will allow me to still play Quidditch and be normal."

"Merlin!" he muttered to himself. "That's exactly what I'm trying to say. You. Will. Never. Be. Normal. Again! You will have to take this potion for the rest of your life if you want to hide your true nature. And if you choose not to you will be discriminated against everywhere you go. You will continually crave blood and if you ever run out, god forbid, you will always worry that you'll attack your friends and family. You'll have to walk around the rest of your life wondering who you'll attack next before you can stop yourself." She stared at him, her eyes wide with disbelief. "Go back to sleep, you're still tired. We'll talk more later."

She had more questions to ask him, but she could barely keep her eyes open. She settled back into the blankets and was immediately asleep.

Severus sighed and slowly left the hospital wing, closing the door softly behind him. He made his way down to his private quarters, relieved that he didn't run into any faculty or students on the way. He didn't even want to see Filch right now.

His thoughts were jumbled as he sat at his desk and extracted a piece of parchment from a drawer. His children wouldn't want to see him anymore. They would be furious with him, naturally. If only he hadn't been so terrified of divulging the secret he had guarded as fiercely as his own life for almost twenty years. He would have to explain to Cho's parents what he had done. If they didn't take him to court, he would have to leave Hogwarts anyway. The parents of all the children would inevitably find out and be distraught over the danger he'd placed their children in. He could live in Hogsmeade. At least there he'd be close enough to keep an eye on his children, and to give them and Cho the potion they'd need to continue life in a semblance of normalcy.

After he finished writing, he walked towards the Headmaster's office. He could pack his things later. He purposely took several detours. His mind was blank, but his body was restless and walking soothed it. Finally he arrived.

The Headmaster was there, reading a book in an armchair by the dwindling fire. "Up so early, Severus?" Examining the circles under the Potions Master's eyes, he rephrased his question, "Or up so late, as the case may be."

Severus handed the piece of parchment to Dumbledore. "This is my letter of resignation. I will be staying in Hogsmeade for the time being so that my children will have easy access to the potion they need. I'll be leaving before they have to see me again." He inched towards the door, waiting for the Headmaster to dismiss him.

Dumbledore suddenly looked bigger than his frail frame. He glowered at Severus. "Don't you dare walk away from this! You're the one who got yourself in this mess and you will stay here and take responsibility! Your children need you, and both they and Cho will need your advice on how to get through this! Don't you dare give up on me after all we've been through!" Severus was shocked. He had expected several reactions from Dumbledore, but this was not one of them.

"Dumbledore . . . " he stuttered.

"It's Albus!" he snapped. "I consider you a friend, Severus. I won't let you do this to yourself or to the people you love." He threw Severus's letter into the fire where it promptly curled and blackened. "I refuse to accept your letter." He sat back down in his chair and began to read again. "I'll expect you to be ready for class promptly at 9 a.m."

And so the conversation was over.

Severus walked out of the Headmaster's office in a daze. He had just turned around the corner into the main hallway when he ran straight into Professor Vector and Filch. Professor Vector's hair was sticking out in twenty directions at once and her face was streaked with red tear trails. Filch looked like he was about to vomit.

"Severus, come quickly!" Filch said urgently, dragging him down the corridor as Professor Vector hurried on towards Dumbledore's office.

"What's going on?" he asked, visions of his children and Cho simultaneously running through his head. Was something wrong with them? They turned into another hallway already occupying a small crowd of faculty members. Severus was shocked so thoroughly by what lay before him that his knees turned to water and he collapsed onto the floor, his breath reduced to short gasps. He saw what he hadn't seen since Voldemort's downfall and hadn't hoped to see ever again.

He sprang clumsily to his feet and slid the rest of the way to the scene. He would have to work quickly - if there was even life left to be saved.

------

Eliza woke to find her head pressed against a book. She was seated at a desk in the back of an empty classroom. The book in front of her was the Divination book she had stolen from the library. She wiped her eyes. She must have drooled on herself because her hands were wet.

She had come here in the middle of the night to read. She had waited in the Hufflepuff common room for Llian to come back until past midnight. On one hand, she was furious at him for abandoning her, on the other she desperately wanted to see him. She needed him to be okay.

When he had first jumped out the window, she had thought he was committing suicide. Snape had explained, upon hearing her tearful account of his death, that he was a Volari and had merely flown away. It was obvious from Llian's expression when she found him that he hadn't known what he had been doing. Was it possible he didn't even know he was a vampire? He certainly didn't show any signs of being one - he was constantly outside, either playing Quidditch or running. But then again, Professor Snape went outside sometimes too without any noticeable side-effects, but not nearly as frequently as Llian and June.

He must be horrified with himself. He must have thought he killed Cho. She hoped he was all right.

Her eyes cleared and focused on the window. Where the sky had been pitch black before, it was now full of soft blues and lavenders - the sun was rising for the day. Eliza shifted her weight. Her robes felt odd, like they were heavier than usual. She looked down at herself and let out a small shriek.

Her robes were dripping blood. There was a hunk of meat lying in her lap. She didn't know what it was from, but from the looks of it she didn't want to know. The red wetness on her hands gleamed in the fresh sunlight streaming through the windows. On the table next to the book she had fallen asleep reading was a long, curved knife. The blood on it had small white chunks that looked like pieces of bone matter.

Don't faint, don't faint, don't faint, she told herself. She didn't know how to get the blood off her robes, but she couldn't walk around sloshing it all over the halls. She tore off her robe and immediately set them on fire. She made water sprinkled out of her wand and, siphoning it out the window, washed her arms, legs, and face thoroughly. She then transformed her outer garments into normal looking Muggle clothing. Taking the book, which was untouched and clean, she examined herself thoroughly to make sure all signs of blood were gone. The first thing she had to do was get to the bottom of this. It was the cruelest joke anyone had ever played on her. She couldn't imagine who would be sick enough to plant all of this on her while she was sleeping. At least they had the decency to not cover the valuable book in blood, too. She dried her wet hair with a simple charm and left the classroom, leaving the book behind. She would have to find a teacher immediately and tell them what had been done to her.

She walked briskly down the hallway, wanting to get this over with as quickly as possible. When she turned a hall, she found a small crowd of teachers. She immediately started for them, but they saw her coming. Her Aunt quickly stepped forward and drove her away, telling her she couldn't use this hallway. Aunt Minerva's face was ghostly white and her red eyes were brimming with tears. Eliza was quickly walked back to the Hufflepuff common room and told to stay inside. She turned to find the entire house sitting in the common room, awaiting further instructions. They had already been told to stay put, it seemed.

Aunt Minerva had turned her away quickly, but not in time so that Eliza could catch a glimpse of what lay beyond the teachers who were frantically swarming. There had been half a dozen bodies lining the floor, their blood pooling from one wall to the other. They had been cut furiously by someone within the last couple hours. Someone with a long knife. A knife just like the one Eliza had found next to her.

She walked to her room in a daze and lied down on the bed.

She was a murderer.


	24. Draco's Mistake

Draco's Mistake

------

Hermione placed her hand on Ginny's shoulder. The red-headed girl jumped in surprise. She had been staring out the window of an empty corridor all afternoon.

"What are you doing here?" Hermione asked. As a new precaution, students were only allowed out of their common room in groups or escorted by a teacher. There were no clues yet as to the perpetrator of the gruesome tragedy several weeks ago. A long knife was found in an empty classroom, obviously the murder weapon, but no further leads were made. There was speculation that Death Eaters had somehow come into the school, but this was unlikely. No one outside of that corridor was hurt. Hermione suspected strongly that the attack had come from inside the school, which scared her even more.

Ginny shrugged. Her face was pale and worried. It was strange that she was out here by herself.

"Are you okay?" Hermione asked gently.

"Yeah." She trailed off, glancing back out the window. She chewed on a fiery strand of hair as she turned back to Hermione. "You know what scares me the most? This reminds me of what happened my first year. The mysterious attacks, the secrecy." She shuddered.

Hermione saw that Ginny's eyes were distant. "Ginny, you don't think. . . ?"

"No," she said quickly. "I'm just worried."

"We're all worried."

Ginny sighed and started walking back towards the common room. Hermione went with her. If they entered together Hermione's disappearance would be less likely to be noticed and commented upon. "I was so relieved that it was only house elves last week."

Hermione stopped dead in her tracks. She was furious. "Oh, I see, because house elves don't have souls, do they? They don't have lives? They're little better than machines!" Ginny looked confused at this last bit. She wasn't sure what a machine was.

"Well. . . , it's just that - you know my brother's propensity to go out in the middle of the night and come back early in the morning. When I heard that bodies had been found before most people had even gotten up. . ." Ginny bit her lip and held back tears.

"Oh, Ginny, I'm so sorry. I wasn't thinking." She put an arm around the younger girl. They walked in silence.

"You know, I'm really worried about Eliza," Ginny said suddenly. "She's been so withdrawn lately."

"It's probably bringing back memories of what happened to her family."

"I guess you're right." She leaned closer to Hermione. "That morning when they found the bodies? She saw them."

"Oh, no!"

"She said she was walking back from reading in an empty classroom when she walked into the corridor where the bodies were. The teachers turned her away quickly, but not before she could see what lay beyond them."

They reached the common room then, and they departed each other's company upon entering. Hermione immediately climbed the stairs to her room. Drawing the curtains completely around her bed, she curled up under the covers. She had a lot to think about.

It had been almost two month now since her first meeting with Draco. She had been walking past the trophy room on her way to the kitchen for a midnight snack to eat while she studied her Potions book, when she heard small sounds coming from inside. It sounded like someone was crying.

She had walked through the room, passing the silent, looming trophies which stood in the darkness like statues. She had turned a corner to find what she'd never expected to see her entire life. Draco was crouching in a corner, his head between his knees, crying. He had a piece of parchment clasped tightly in his hands. Hermione had been shocked. Draco hadn't seen her yet, and she wasn't sure whether to approach him or to leave quietly. On one hand, Draco would be furious that she had seen him, and she wasn't keen on getting involved in his problems. But on the other hand, he was hurting badly - maybe he needed someone.

She walked closer. "Malfoy?" she called softly.

He looked up, his pale face gleaming with tears. He looked terrified. What could possibly have happened that would be so horrible that it would cause Draco to show his fear to a Mudblood? She crept closer and knelt down before him. "Are you okay?" she asked.

He shook his head and almost defiantly shoved the piece of parchment in his face. It was from Lord Voldemort. It commended Draco for being a loyal follower - Draco would take his Mark over Christmas, it said.

"So, you're going to be a good little Death Eater, just like your father," she said scornfully. She threw the letter in his face. "Going to have fun torturing Mudbloods and killing innocent people," she spat.

She started to turn away, her head churning, when Draco cried out, "Granger! Help me, please!"

She turned around slowly. "What did you say?"

He drew himself up taller. "I. . . I need help. I don't know who to turn to. I can't go to Dumbledore. And Snape is out of the question. I need. . . I don't know what to do. . ." He shrugged awkwardly.

Hermione couldn't believe her ears. Was this a set-up? She looked around carefully, but didn't see the bulk of either Goyle or Crabbe hiding behind the thin trophies. "What about your two goons? Why don't you talk to them?"

His face went white. "Them!" He shuddered. "They already have their Marks, and now they're beginning to think I'm not loyal. They'd kill me." He turned away and walked to the window. "I guess I should just go and get it over with and let them kill me. If only I hadn't been so stupid!" He gripped the window sill.

"What did you do that was so stupid?"

"Oh, nothing - just offered my soul to the Dark Lord!"

Hermione wanted to say that she had no sympathy for the pitiful boy in front of him, but that would be a lie. It was true that he had mistreated her and her kind for years, but he was obviously in pain. But she would never be able to understand him. He turned to her, his face cross, watching her reaction. He would probably be handsome, she thought, if he wasn't such a jerk! "And why did you do that?" she asked carefully.

Draco suddenly ran and grabbed Hermione and shoved her behind a pillar. She was about to hit him for his behavior when she heard footsteps approaching the trophy room. They stood very close together, making sure that neither of them could be seen from the doorway. Hermione could feel Draco's breath on her forehead. His hands remained frozen on her shoulders from when he had dragged her out of sight.

The clumping footsteps stopped outside the door. "Malfoy?" a gruff voice called out. "Are you in there? It's us. Did you get your letter yet?" The voice sounded very excited.

The footsteps started into the room when a deep voice from a second person stopped them. "He's not in here, we're wasting our time. Let's try down in the dungeons."

"You don't think he'd go visit Snape, do you?"

"That traitor!" the second voice snapped. "If he is at least we'll know where his loyalties stand. I have faith that Malfoy will overcome his admiration of that ugly git now that he knows the man's true nature. Come on, let's get moving." The footsteps clumped down the hall and the room returned to silence.

Draco let out a deep breath that tickled Hermione's ear. He looked down at her and for a second their eyes locked. He suddenly realized how close he had been standing and pulled away. Hermione felt faint.

"Go away." He said, turning back to the window. "You won't be any help in this. But if you tell anyone, even those two friends of yours, I will hurt you."

Hermione wasn't sure what to do. "But, earlier you asked me for help. . . "

"Momentary weakness," he said sharply. "It won't happen again. This doesn't concern you."

"But I want to help. I can't help you if you don't tell me what's going on?" Why was she so insistent on helping him? She found that her voice spoke of its own accord, just as her feet refused to walk away.

"That's a wonderful idea Miss Granger - why don't you insist on getting yourself killed, too? I can't involve you in this. You don't even understand what's going on." He refused to look at her.

"Then who are you going to talk to? Are you just going to let this happen or are you going to fight?"

"I wasn't sorted into Gryffindor for a reason."

"You bastard!" He jumped, shocked at her outburst. "What a pitiful excuse! Slytherins are supposed to be cunning and resourceful. Are you just going to waltz in there and let them mark you because you don't have anything better to do? Didn't you learn anything from Professor Snape? He joined something that he didn't believe in and he's been paying for it ever since - is that how you want your entire miserable life to be?" Hermione's breathing was harsh. She didn't know from where inside her this outburst had come, but it felt good once it was out.

"You would help me?" he asked softly.

Her? What could she do? Draco looked so pale and drained in the moonlight that she couldn't refuse to at least try. "I'll do what I can."

He nodded. They suddenly both felt as if they had two left feet. How would they go about this clumsy and unlikely alliance? "We can't talk here," Draco said, rubbing his chin thoughtfully. "Remember the clearing we met in today for Magical Creatures? Can you manage to meet me there next Saturday?" She nodded. "Maybe you can 'borrow' that famous cloak of Potter's. Meet me at midnight. Everyone should be asleep by then."

She nodded, not wanting to trust her voice. She started back towards the door. "You don't have to do this," Draco called softly after her.

"Don't chicken out on us," she pleaded.

"Us?"

"Yes, us. There's a lot more at stake than just your pride. What you decide to do could be the difference between innocent lives lost or saved." She didn't wait to see his reaction. She left and continued to walk down the hallway. She had forgotten where she had been going in the first place.

Hermione stomach had been in knots all that week, wondering what Saturday would bring. It was easier than she would have thought to slip out to the Forbidden Forest. The Death Eater's attacks had tightened school security, but she didn't meet a single person on her way out. She arrived at the clearing to find it empty. As she sat in still night air she began to have doubts. Could this be a trap? She began to see shadows out the corner of her eye. Draco could have planned this and was now going to ambush her with his friends. It was a lot of trouble to go through, though, and she wasn't sure Draco was smart enough to pull off such a stunt on his own.

She had almost given up and turned around to go back inside when she saw a shadow move overhead. A giant bird was flying over the clearing. Hermione took out her wand, unsure of whether it was friend or foe. But then she gasped. When it swooped down onto the grass in front of her, she could see despite the dim moonlight that underneath the beautiful white wings was Draco. Draco had wings?

She suddenly realized where she had seen wings like that before, and pale angular features resembling Draco - the veelas at the World Cup. Draco was a veela! He noted her fascination with his wings. "I'm not supposed to let anyone see them," he explained. "But this was the easiest way for me to get out of the castle without being seen."

"Your wings - they're beautiful! I didn't know you were a veela!"

"My mother is actually. Father forbid both of us from telling anyone, or ever letting anyone find out." He paused. "But I guess its okay that you know."

"Can I touch them?" Hermione blushed, realizing how odd the request sounded, but his feathers looked so soft and delicate she couldn't resist.

Draco chuckled softly. "Of course you can. Just watch out for my talons - I wouldn't want to go through the trouble of hiding your body if you hurt yourself." His face was the same mocking one he always wore in school, but his eyes still smiled. Hermione reached out hesitantly and touched his wings. They felt like warm snow. Draco shivered. "Stop, that tickles," he said harshly, quickly folding his wings away.

Hermione shook herself to attention. This was serious. "I think you'd better start by telling me how this happened," she said. She remembered Draco's saying it was all his fault. She wondered what he had done to cause it.

When he finished, she struggled to think of an answer. She wanted to slap him for being so stupid. Sending a letter to Voldemort himself and then being upset when he accepts your offer! But Hermione knew there was more behind Draco's reasons. "Do you really want to be a Death Eater?" she asked.

"Honestly?" She nodded. He sighed and drew his knees up to his chin. "I want to be a Death Eater because my father was one." He glanced sharply at Hermione. "I know what you're going to say - that's no excuse that I would willingly torture Muggles just because my father did."

"Did you actually enjoy it when he did? Like during the World Cup when we met you in the woods?"

Draco seemed reluctant to tell her. "Actually. . . I was - what's the word I'm looking for? Not scared. Well, something close to that. I was trying to get away from it. I couldn't stop from laughing the whole time, but it was only because I was so nervous. And then I came across you guys and realized it could be you up there. So I told you to get out of there."

Hermione remembered that Draco had warned them to leave, but indirectly and hidden under some typical snide comments. There was more to Draco, she thought, than it seemed.

"I felt sick whenever I pictured you up there, with dad down there twirling you around like a spin toy. I had dreams . . . " He stopped abruptly.

"What did you dream about?"

"Nothing," he said quickly. "Since dad died, I don't know what I want anymore. Everything was already decided, but now I don't know what to do." She couldn't believe he was pouring his heart out to her. There must be some other reason that was fueling his openness.

"You loved your dad, didn't you?"

He stiffened. "You don't know what it was like, living with my dad," he whispered. "It was like trying to live on a house attached to one of those muggle contraptions, a roller coaster." Hermione smiled slightly that he was explaining anything dealing with muggles to her. "You never knew what was coming next. He would be perfectly sane all day, but then wake up the entire house during a rage in the middle of the night." He shuddered. "I hated him."

Hermione was aghast. She never would have known. "Why didn't you say anything before?"

"Oh, sure," he said sarcastically. "I'll just go around telling everyone that I hate the man I live with, discarding the fact that he has half the Ministry wrapped around his finger and that if he knew he'd hurt-"

He stopped. "How did you want me to help?"

"You'd help me?"

"Maybe. I'm not making any guarantees. You haven't exactly proven yourself to be trustworthy."

He smirked at her. "Like I need your help."

She stood. "Then why did you drag me out here!"

He stood also and tried to stop her from walking back to the castle. "Please wait!" he pleaded.

She stopped and turned to face him. "I'll consider helping you on one condition."

"What's that?" he asked suspiciously.

"Tell me why you told me all this. I want the truth."

He was silent. "The truth?" Then Draco did something that Hermione would never in a thousand years considered him capable of doing: he blushed. "I. . . needed someone to talk to."

She looked at him closely. His eyes wouldn't meet hers. "Then why me? There are plenty of other people if that's all you wanted." She tried to make her voice harsh, but it refused and instead came out gently.

He started walking back towards the school in his usual swagger. "Maybe because I happen to like you," he called casually over his shoulder.

Her mouth dropped open. "You what!" She ran up next to him. "Oh, and I supposed to be happy about this? Do you expect me to swoon and giggle and throw my arms around you like Pansy?"

"You leave Pansy out of this!" he demanded. "I don't give a crap what you think. You can do what you like."

"You think this is going to change anything between us? You needed someone to talk to, poor baby!"

"Shut up!"

"But you're just too shy to talk to your friends, so you'll make the icky muggle come all the way out here-"

"I said shut up!"

"And why should I listen to you? I'm soooo glad you're telling me the truth - liking me really explains why you've been treating me like dirt the entire time I've known you."

He stopped his brisk pace and turned to face her. He was shaking in rage. "You're a Mudblood! I'm a Slytherin! Do have any idea what they would do to me if they knew! Everyone thinks that Crabbe and Goyle and I are just the closest and sweetest of friends - well, we're not! Do you want to know why they follow me everywhere? Because my father told them to! He doubted my loyalty - my loyalty! So now I have these two idiots following me everywhere I go. How can you understand? You can't." He started walking again.

"Whoa, wait just one minute. Don't you walk away from me!" He stopped and faced her once again. "How do I know you're telling me the truth? How do I know you're not really in cohorts with them? Why would you like me anyway?"

In one smooth motion, he swooped forward and pulled his head down to her height, touching his lips to hers. Not quite a kiss. Something else. Hermione felt a sudden surge of adrenaline, and had to put her hand over her mouth to keep from giggling inappropriately. They both unconsciously backed up a step. He said softly, "I just do, okay?"

They stared at each other in silence. The lights from the castle glimmered in the distance. Draco turned away. "I'm sorry to have wasted your time." His voice broke as he spoke. "I'm sure you have better things to do." He unfolded his long wings and ran across the grass. He pushed off and was soaring through the air, higher and higher until he disappeared behind one of the many Hogwarts towers.

They had avoided each other's gaze for several weeks afterwards. But then-

Hermione was jolted out of her reverie and two month forward into the present when she heard someone screaming. Her heart leapt into her throat. Please, don't let it be another attack! she hoped. She ran out the door and found several students gathered around the fifth year boys' dormitory. The students there parted to let her through. She found Harry lying on his bed, his blanket twisted around him, screaming to loud she had to clap her hands over her ears. She was shocked. Violent reactions were a rarity with Harry.

She ran to his side. Ron soon joined her. Harry was having a nightmare.

"Harry, please wake up! Harry! HARRY!" They shook him together and he finally emerged from whatever horrific dream had been holding him, his shirt soaked in sweat and his breathing hard. He looked around him in a daze. His eyes then snapped to focus and he jumped to his feet.

He ignored everyone's questions and ran straight through the gathering crowd out the door. Hermione and Ron followed him as he sprinted down the stairs and into the common room. They almost ran into him when he stopped at the bottom to survey the room. His searching eyes found the red-head he had been looking for in a corner table with several classmates.

He strode over to the table and told the people sitting there, "Move! I need to talk to Ginny alone." Seeing the disarray he was in, they immediately gathered their books and left to another table, whispering furtively among themselves. He stared at Ginny for a long time. She stared back. Hermione found it strange that she didn't blush but looked back levelly, as if she knew what was coming.

"You had another dream?" she asked. He nodded. "June told me about your dreams. She said you'd figure them out on your own."

"How long have you known?"

She looked down at her hands. "Since the end of my first year. I figured it out, but Dumbledore asked me not to tell you. He was going to tell you, but he saw how upset you were over the fact that the hat wanted to put you in Slytherin, and he just couldn't."

"He just couldn't," Harry said sarcastically.

Ginny started to look scared. "Don't look at it that way, Harry!" she pleaded.

"Oh, and what way should I look at it? Should I tap dance in joy?" He got up and left the table without looking back and climbed through the portrait hole. Hermione and Ron followed him out into the hallway.

"Harry!" Hermione called after him and he walked away from them.

He turned to them. His face was made of ice. "Don't follow me." He turned and started walking again. Seeing that they still tagged along, he shouted at them, "Leave me alone! Just go away!" He took off at a sprint down the hall away from them. Fearing for his mental state, they ran after him, but by the time they turned the corner he was gone.

Hermione turned to Ron. His freckled face was flushed. He looked like he was about to cry. "What do we do now?" he asked her.

She didn't know.

They went back to the common room to find a pale Ginny staring into space. "What was that about?" Ron demanded.

Ginny glared at her brother. "It doesn't concern you."

"Doesn't concern me!" he shouted. The entire common room was looking at him, but he was too upset to stop. "Harry's my bloody best friend! And it doesn't concern me? What kind of sister are you! Tell us!"

Ginny shook her head. Her eyes started to water, but she was adamant. "I can't. I just can't." She picked up her book and ran up the stairs to her room.

Ron slumped down into her empty seat. Hermione sat besides him. They considered the table in front of them in silence.


	25. Revelations on a Dream

25.Revelations on a Dream

Harry sighed.

He was in the Divination section of the Restricted area. What did it matter how many books on dreaming he read if none of them could tell what his own dreams meant? "The Prophecies of the Children of the Stars" was still missing. June usually took less than a week to finish a book, but she was taking an usually long time with this one. It had been over a month. Maybe it became buried under the famous pile of junk in her room that he heard the other fifth year girls complaining about. He wondered if he should remind her to return it but decided against it; he didn't want to rush her. The book interested him but he did have all year to read it. He had been spending a lot of time reading on his own, but he had yet to decipher the dreams. His bed went mainly unused as he preferred to stay awake reading at night. Alone, of course.

He couldn't face his friends. He doubted they even still considered him a friend. Even June had distanced herself from him. No one wanted to have anything to do with him. He didn't blame them. Nightmares of the prophecy Professor Trelawny had made fifteen years ago scourged his brain.

After checking out his books he went back to the Gryffindor common room. There were lots of students studying there (except Hermione, he noted) because of the new restrictions on wandering around the school. A quick glance revealed only three red-heads. He wondered briefly where Ginny was as he climbed the stairs to his bedroom. He was shyly considering asking her to go with him to the Halloween dance next Friday night. They had come to know each other quite well during Quidditch practice. Harry was impressed with how well she could fly when she put her mind to it. But he doubted she'd accept. Besides, he wasn't sure if he was even going.

He settled down on his bed in the empty bedroom and started reading. The late October wind rattled the window. Harry absently started to reach out to pet Sirius when he realized the dog wasn't there. Dumbledore had been sending Sirius on seemingly random missions of an undisclosed nature. Sirius would simply appear as suddenly as he disappeared and continue to follow Harry around, often being his only companion. To the lonely boy it felt like his godfather was never there.

Soon his eyes began to droop and his vision blur. He finally gave up his efforts when he realized he had been trying to read the same paragraph for over ten minutes. The sleep overcame him quickly as he slid under the covers, and with it the dreams that tracked him relentlessly.

- - - - - - - - - - - - -

He was walking through a maze full of mirrors, some kind of House of Horror at a carnival. Some mirrors were fragmented and broken, others curved and twisted, reflecting him as fat or thin as a pole. In others he appeared with only one arm, or maybe two heads. Sometimes he would pass a classmate who was seemingly trapped behind a mirror. He passed Draco, who was pressed up against the other side of the glass

"Harry!" he called. "Help me! I can't get out!" He pounded against the glass with the palm of his hands. It wouldn't budge. "Harry!" he screamed desperately. Harry continued to watch him, not moving. Draco started to throw his weight against the glass and claw at it frantically. He tuned to see something off to his right, something behind the glass out of Harry's sight. Draco turned to look at Harry, his eyes suddenly dull. They both knew what was about to happen, and that it was inevitable. Harry wanted to look away, but he was rooted to the spot - oddly, he also felt to do so would betray the Slytherin. Draco suddenly sagged against the mirror and fell to the floor in a heap, smearing his blood on the glass as he fell. Harry continued to watch him for a second and then moved on.

He would randomly pass schoolmates, teachers, even strangers. Some of them were in perfect health, besides the fact that neither Harry nor they could free them from their prisons. Others were already dead, lying on their back with their faces already half-decomposed, or lying beside the glass in a tattered, bloody heap. Harry passed one to find familiar blue eyes staring back at him. He hurried on quickly, not wanting to believe what he thought these mirrors meant, an hoping he was wrong.

Behind one was Eliza Bilkes, who was sitting cross legged on the ground reading a book, unaware that she was even trapped inside the deadly glass. Red and black swarms of mist trailed from the book and circled her head. She read on, oblivious to the dark magic that surrounded her. Harry wondered if he was actually having a flashback about Ginny, only substituting Eliza in her place. To be sure, he would have to remember to tell Eliza not to read any strange books, which would be a challenge in itself considering how many strange books she read all the time already.

A flash of red out the corner of his eyes caught his attention. There was a red-head sitting behind a mirror, his back to the glass. His throat dry, Harry walked over and tapped on the glass. George looked over his shoulder up at Harry at smiled sadly. He climbed to his feet wearily and stood to face him.

"You know what this dream means, don't you?" the dream-George asked

"I - I think so," Harry said, a sinking feeling in his stomach.

"What you see is only a possibility. But remember the most important point of your dream is that if it does happen you are powerless to help."

Harry punched the glass with his fist. "That's ridiculous! This is so stupid! Dreams never mean anything anyway." He gritted his teeth and pounded his forehead against the glass.

"That's enough Harry!" Harry stopped and turned his attention back to the Weasley in front of him "This is a transient portion of your dream. Some things here will mean a great deal and others nothing at all. You must not stay here much longer - it would drive you mad. You must move on."

"How?"

George looked pointedly over Harry's left shoulder. Harry followed his gaze to find another hallway of mirrors, this one darker than the ones he had been walking through. "You will find different people and different meanings. Try to understand - this is for your own good," George told him. "Harry, it is important that you-" He gasped and clutched his chest, wincing in pain. "It is important that you know-" He sank to his knees, fingers and face slowly turning blue. "That you know-" He fell over onto the ground, twitched once, and was still.

Harry backed away from the glass. He turned and ran full-speed into the dark hallway. He passed a long line of mirrors reflecting him at different ages. In one he was small with some baby-fat, barely able to walk, in another his green eyes were surrounded by wrinkles and his raven black hair had turned white. One mirror showed him in his Gryffindor Quidditch robes flying on a broom, and another showed him decked in Slytherin green brewing a complex potion. He came to mirror that whose frame was empty. With a questioning glance both ways down the darkened hallway he stepped through the mirror and went through a long, winding tunnel. When he came out at the other end, he found himself at the bottom of a long, spiraling staircase. It rose up into the darkness, apparently unsupported by anything. He started to climb.

He passed many ghosts on his way: the Bloody Baron, Myrtle and her friend San, past Headmasters, and old wizards and witches he had learned of from his history textbook. He even saw his parents once, floating down in the opposite direction without a glance in his direction. When he tried to follow them, he bumped into what appeared to be a solid wall which, like a plane of glass, let him watch his parents trail away but not to go after them. It seemed the stairs only went one way. After what seemed like hours he found Cedric waiting for him, sitting on the steps. The ghost rose to his feet and said, "You're treading on dangerous territory." Before Harry could ask he continued, "Follow me," and stepped off the stairs into empty space. Harry hesitated but followed. The air beneath his feet was solid as stone.

"Cedric?" he asked as he tried to keep up with the older boy's longer strides. "Is it really you?"

The ghost answered without stopping, a slight smile on his lips, "It is and it isn't. It's really me in the sense that I'm here in your dream helping you, but it not in the sense that nothing you see will ever be me again. I'm a ghost of boy you once knew, but I'm not really him." There was something shining in the distance. As they approached Harry groaned. It was another mirror.

Cedric motioned towards the mirror and then floated off into the darkness, leaving Harry alone once again. He stepped close and gasped in recognition: it was the Mirror of Erised. Unafraid, he stepped up to peer into it's depths. He was confronted by the exact same image of his dead relatives that appeared when he found the mirror his first year at Hogwarts. He frowned and started to look around. There was nothing else but darkness.

"Am I supposed to wake up now?" he asked out loud. There was no answer. Shrugging, he turned back to the mirror. Four years ago he had been obsessed with only his parents, so he took the time now to observe the other people in the frame. His eyes stopped on two figures in the very back, each standing on opposite sides of the mirror, one behind his father's shoulder, the other over his mother's.

He stared at them numbly. One glared at him out of the familiar snake-like eyes, a smirk on his face. The other smiled brightly at Harry, his eyes twinkling behind his half-moon spectacles.

"No!" Harry whispered in disbelief. It couldn't be true. This must be some kind of messed up distorted nightmare. But it explained why no one would tell him: he wouldn't have believed them. It also explained most of his disturbing dreams. He remembered the dream he had during the summer the night of the Death Eater's attack. The red-headed girl with the green eyes who sat in Dumbledore's lap hadn't been Ginny.

He turned and ran, trying to put as much distance between himself and the mirror as possible. He was out of breath by the time he saw the door ahead. He stopped before it. It looked like the closet door in the staff room where Professor Lupin had found the boggart. He wondered if he should open it, but, in truth, he was afraid to. His dreams were rarely happy occasions, and they were unlikely to become so now. Would he find a boggart behind it? The thought of one brought chills down his arms. Why should he be so scared of a boggart? But he was - almost as scared as Professor Snape. June had told him that the only thing her papa truly feared was a boggart. Harry wondered what Professor Snape would find if he were the one to open this door. Snape's fear certainly explained why he was in such a hurry to leave the staff room when Lupin had entered with the third years, rather than taking the opportunity to stay and ridicule both the students and teacher he disliked. Harry wondered if Snape had warned Lupin about Neville because he was frightened the boy wouldn't be able to handle a boggart if even he couldn't. It must have irked Snape to no end to know that even Neville, his worst student, had been able to successfully confront a boggart when he could not. Harry, too, wanted to walk away from this, but he knew it would do no good. These things, as horrible as they were, had been put in his dreams for a reason. He would just have to confront it.

He opened the door, waiting for a Dementor to slide out.

Instead, Harry Potter stepped out of the closet, a smirk on his face, his eyes blazing hatred at the weak being before him. His black hair was slicked back, highlighting the angles of his face. His eyes glowed red.

"Who are you?" Harry asked, shaking in mixture of rage and fear.

"I am you," the dream-Harry replied.

"You would never be me! Never! I would die a thousand deaths before I became you!"

The dream-Harry frowned for a second, his nostrils flaring, then smiled instead. He lifted his wand and pointed it at Harry. "Crucio!" It was the worst pain Harry had ever felt in his entire life. His world was full of lightening that flashed through him with blaring white-hot light.

He screamed and screamed.

- - - - - - - - - - - - -

He felt hands shaking him and heard different voices calling his name. He plunged into wakefulness as if it were icy water. His eyes refused to focus for a second. The blankets were twisted around him and a group of students gawked at him from the doorway. Hermione and Ron were next to him, asking him something.

The dream must be true. Now that Harry knew what his dreams had meant he was able to see the similarities. He mentally transposed his father's face over his, and then his grandfather's (imagine calling that man a grandfather!) face over his father's. The similarities were uncanny. He wondered if Ron and Hermione knew, but then realized they hadn't seen his grandfather as a teenager as he had, when their faces looked the most similar.

But Ginny had.

In a second he was out the door and down the stairs. He found her in a corner talking with some friends. He heard a harsh voice commanding her classmates to leave and realized it was his own. He sat and looked into her eyes. She knew.

In less than a minute he had learned all he was going to from her. He ran out the door. Ron and Hermione tried to follow him, so he deftly sprinted around the corner and the next and was certain they were no where near him by the time he reached the second floor at a run.

So Ginny had recognized him for who he was. How did she keep silent all this time? Everyone had thought she acted so embarrassed around him because she had a crush on him; she must have been terrified of him, knowing who he really was. He stopped to rest his forehead against the cool stone wall. Now he was definitely going to have no friends.

But the solution he had found complicated things. And how did it explain Lily? Everyone had told him his mother was Muggle born. Obviously she couldn't be. Unless he was wrong. There was only one way to find out. He headed to the North Tower at a jog and started running up the stairs. He arrived at the top, panting, to find the mirror there, just as it had been in his dream. It was covered with an old, battered cloth. He wouldn't have even recognized it if he hadn't already known it was there.

He paused before the covered mirror. He could leave now and never know. He didn't want to know. But it wouldn't change who he was if he walked away from it. Sighing, he removed the cloth and once again examined his relatives.

They were there, both of them. Over his mother's shoulder, standing in the back behind the other smiling relatives was Albus Dumbledore, the enigmatic man Harry had known for five years. Standing behind his father's shoulder, only his scowling face visible, was Tom Riddle.

His thoughts were jumbled as he climbed down the stairs much more slowly than he had climbed up. Tom Riddle had killed all his family. Well, almost all. He had killed his own father, grandfather, and his son. The only person he hadn't murdered was his grandson. Me, Harry thought with a shudder. He couldn't comprehend this new view of his father. His father had been loving and trustworthy and honorable. He wasn't the son of a murderous bastard.

Also, either Dumbledore was from a Muggle family, which was unlikely, or else everything he had been told about his mother's background was a lie. Memories of Dumbledore fifty years ago, with his white hair streaked red, flew through his head.

Before Harry knew it, he was standing in front of Dumbledore's office. Everything came back to Dumbledore, he thought as the door magically opened for him. The Headmaster must be expecting him. Dumbledore was the one who had kept all these secrets. Dumbledore. He was sitting before the fire, deep in thought, the twinkle dimmed from his eyes. His face was as serious as it had been last year after the horrific third task. He twitched when Harry stepped in front of his gaze. "Ah, Harry. I see it is time for another talk. You understand why I couldn't tell you?" Harry nodded. "Tell me why."

"If you had I wouldn't have wanted to believe you, and then I would have interpreted my dreams as being nightmares about what you told me. I understand - but I still don't forgive you," he said coldly as he sat in a chair far enough away from the fireplace to be in the shadows.

"Be that as it may, it is time for me to tell you a story, concerning myself and your parents," Dumbledore said. Harry leaned back into the soft cushioned chair, wishing the fire was just a little bit warmer. "I did more in life, believe it or not, than merely teach. I once married a wonderfully beautiful woman with brown hair and green eyes whose name was Yvonne. We had a daughter named Rose that married a Muggle, Harry Evans, who you are named after, I believe. Not many people knew that I had a daughter - she continued to practice magic on her own, but she lost touch with the magical world. I hope you'll forgive me for not going into details, perhaps one day I will, but the memories of what befell them are still too painful. They had two daughters, your mother and aunt, and ran a small inn in the countryside - a Muggle inn. But one night it caught fire: my wife, daughter, and her husband died in the blaze. The Muggle police suspected arson, but nothing was ever proved. The Evans family adopted Lily and Petunia as their own. Rose had specified in her will that they be placed with her Muggle in-laws because Petunia was showing strong signs of being a squib and Lily was too young to know whether she would be one or not. The Evans were god people, and raised both girls as lovingly as if they were their own children. They were tickled, however, when Lily received her letter of acceptance to Hogwarts. Petunia, I suspect, was always jealous of Lily, which is why we were uncertain at first whether to let the Dursleys adopt you. She was brought up as a Muggle, but it still hurt her deeply that she had no magic herself."

Harry shivered. As if in response, Dumbledore cast a charm to the fire that spread its warmth throughout the room. Harry gave a weak smile in appreciate. Contrary to the temperature of the room, his anger and frustration was quickly giving way to resignation. At least after this he would know the worst there was to know. "And my father?"

"Your father. If it was common knowledge that James' father was Voldemort, he never would have been allowed to come to Hogwarts, but I have done what I could to protect him. His mother really was a Potter, so most were unaware who his father was. The Potters were most pleased when he ended up in Gryffindor, following after his mother's side instead of his father's. I told you at the end of your second year that Tom Riddle was the last of the line of Salazar Slytherin. I lied. You are the last of the line. You will recall the similarities between you and Tom we discussed at the time: your resourcefulness, determination - traits he admired in himself and others. Also your close affinity with snakes and spiders. I lied again when I proposed that some of Voldemort's powers rubbed off on you in order for you to be a Parselmouth. I lied and lied again. You are all of these things and more because you are the last of the line of Salazar Slytherin. The hat almost placed you in Slytherin because of this, and you can speak with snakes because of this - and I imagine that a few other talents remain hidden from the Slytherin line which you haven't yet developed."

"I don't want to develop any talents that come from Slytherin!" Harry protested.

"Harry, I have told you before and I will tell you again - it is not what we are given that makes us who we are, it is what we do with what we are given. But you are in a special position - you are the heir to two houses."

"Two?"

"Godric Gryffindor was an ancestor of mine, farther back on the family tree than I'd care to look. You aren't the only descendant, however, as the Gryffindors were prone to having bigger families than the Slytherins. The Blacks, for instance are also distantly related, as they married into the family."

"You mean I really am related to Sirius?"

"Yes, but only very distantly. If you cared to trace your line back you would be able to find the exact place where they merge, but it would be tedious business, although I hear there is quite a new surge of interest in genealogy theses days."

Harry made a face. "I guess that means I'm related to Professor Snape, too."

"Correct." Dumbledore looked back into the fire. He looked very thin and fragile. "If you will excuse me, it is time for this old man to go to bed. These memories do not stay hidden lightly, and once they are out. . . I apologize for not telling you sooner, but what is done is done - now knowing the past we have no choice but to move forward into the future. If you ever have any questions please feel free to come a have some tea with me." He started to rise.

"Wait. . . That mean's you're my. . . Great-grandfather!"

Dumbledore looked away and smiled wistfully. "Yes, Harry I am indeed your great-grandfather, although I don't know if this news will bring you any joy after all the pain I've caused you."

Harry brightened. "Do you know how long I've dreamed of discovering I have relatives besides the Dursleys? Can't I stay here during the summer?"

Dumbledore's face darkened. "Harry, were I a younger man and in a position to keep you I would love to have you. But as it is, I fear the knowledge of your ancestry should remain shrouded for now."

"Because of Voldemort?"

Dumbledore sighed. "Yes." Seeing Harry's hesitation to leave he asked, "What is it child?"

"Er. . .well. . .no never mind." He started to leave but then turned back again. "When we're alone, can I call you granddad?"

Dumbledore stared into the green eyes before him, so like the green eyes on a woman he loved years ago. Such times, he thought, that the boy should even have to ask. "Of course, you may call me granddad when we're alone or with people who already know."

Harry stood there awkwardly, unsure what to do. Finally he stepped closer to Dumbledore and gave him a small hug. "Thanks. Goodnight, granddad," he said. He left quickly, embarrassed at his small display of affection.

Harry felt torn inside: he had gained some family, but how many friends had he lost in the process? He walked back to his room slowly. There was likely to be a sleepless night ahead of him - he had too much to think about.

The Gryffindor common room, much to his surprise, was not completely empty. Being stuck inside all day, most students had already gone to bed, but five remained waiting for him. Hermione, Ginny, Ron, June, and Neville all sat at the same table talking. They looked up and beckoned him over when he entered.

"Harry, June told us about your dreams. Why didn't you just tell us?" Ron demanded.

"I don't see why you should care." Harry started to leave towards his room. He didn't need this.

"Harry!" Ron stepped in front of him and refused to move. "Why should I not care?"

"Because I'm the heir of Slytherin! Everything you ever dreaded about me was right! Voldemort is my grandfather!"

"So is Dumbledore!" Ron shouted back. "Look, you're my bloody best friend - or, at least, you used to be. Nowadays you're acting like you don't even know me. Don't you get that I don't care who your family is? You could be a Malfoy for all I care. We're your friends Harry, whether you accept us or not, and we want to help you."

"But . . . But, you've been avoiding me all year!"

Ginny spoke up. "You've been the one who was running away from everyone. You eat by yourself and study by yourself. If anyone tries to sit next to you, you leave in a hurry." Harry realized she was right. He hadn't been able to stand the thought of anyone sitting next to him; he couldn't stand the thought of what they must think of him.

Harry sank down into a couch beside Hermione, who patted his knee sympathetically. "Have I really been so stupid?" Ginny nodded. "Why would you guys still want to be my friend? Didn't June tell you about the prophecy?"

"Of course she told us. Why would we abandon you now after everything we've been through," Ron said. "We didn't abandon you even when we thought you were the heir of Slytherin our second year."

"You mean you really thought I was?"

Hermione nodded and explained, "Well, it was rather suspicious. You were a Parselmouth and everything, but we knew that you could never be responsible for what was happening. And now that we know you really are the heir of Slytherin - well, it's still you Harry, isn't it?"

"You guys still accept me?"

Ron pounded Harry's back with his fist. "Don't be so daft! Of course we accept you. You still are, and always will be, our friend whether you want to be or not!" Ron threw his arms around Harry and hugged him tightly. Hermione and Ginny did likewise. Neville reached over and ruffled Harry's hair, not that it could possibly stick out any worse from the abuse. Once they allowed Harry to breathe again, Ron asked, "So you'll go with me to the Halloween ball?" Ron turned red when his sister started snickering. "Not like that! I mean, are you going to go with all of us, or are you going to hide again? Please come - it won't be any fun without you!"

Harry smiled. "Sure, I was thinking about going anyway." He looked shyly at Ginny. "Actually, I was going to ask Ginny to go with me. . . " he mumbled.

Ginny blushed, but accepted. Ron looked flabbergasted for a second and then burst out, "Hey, Harry - if you marry Ginny you'll be my brother!" Everyone started laughing. "What?" he demanded.

They sat there together well into the night, catching up on what the others had done all semester. Ginny, June and Neville quickly went to bed to let the old friends be by themselves. "Snape will be furious," Ron said. "The 'Dream team' is back together. 'Potter and the Mauraders', or maybe it should be 'Weasley and the Marauders'."

"It would be 'Granger and the two Dunderheads'," Hermione corrected. "And I think Snape will be pleased. Didn't you notice that it looked like he actually missed our little group?"

"Probably because it was easier to take buckets of points off of us that way," Ron retorted.

"Well, we wouldn't want to disappoint a professor!" Harry suggested. Ron and Hermione looked at him silently for a second. "What?" he demanded.

They both smiled. Ron said happily, "It's good to have you back, mate!"


	26. Poison

(A/N: Warning: Flashback contains a bit of death, slight goriness. . . I just get worse and worse, don't I?) 

26.Poison

Hermione was dreading the next potions class. Someone was going to be dangerously hurt and only she, Draco, and a few other Slytherins knew it. She hated to conspire against her own friends, but the least she could do was see that the least amount of damage occurred.

Draco had discretely arranged another meeting with Hermione. They had met at a different place the day when Harry later had his dream, a tower on the far side of Hogwarts, and far enough away from the now famous North Tower. He had walked there this time. Hermione had been disappointed: she wanted to see his wings again, but knew he couldn't risk flying in the daytime when anyone glancing out the window could see him.

He was already there when she entered, sitting with his long legs dangling out the window. She sat next to him, but with plenty of space between them. They had both kept their distance after what happened last time. "I didn't know if you'd come," he said. "I need your help. Under Voldemort's direction and Crabbe and Golye's supervision, I am to disrupt Mr. Potter's studies during the next potions class."

"Can't you refuse?" Hermione could see from his face that this was the wrong question to ask. "No, of course not. I know what they would do to you if you showed your true beliefs." She sighed. Stupid Slytherins. If all the world was Gryffindor there wouldn't be these troubles. But that was wrong - sometimes the Gryffindors could be just as mean to each other as the Slytherins were to other houses.

"You know we are working on the memory potions now. This Wednesday I'm to add five werewolf hairs to Harry's potion before he stirs in the ground beetles."

It took only a fraction of a second for Hermione to identify exactly what potion would emerge from Harry's cauldron. "No!" It would make a Dementiar potion that Hermione had read of in Moste Potente Potions her second year: two hairs would create a potion that would cause the drinker to fall into a coma-like state and be haunted by their worst memory; what was worse was that people in close proximity, if even a partial spray of the potion entered the air they breathed, would be temporarily pulled into the nightmare with the victim. An antidote would cure this, but the trance could last anywhere for several minutes to weeks, depending on the person. It was similar to the effect that Dementors had on people, only magnified through the ingredients in the potion - and Harry already reacted bad enough to just the Dementors. With someone whose life was as traumatic as Harry's. . . Four hairs would cause the potion to boil, and five hairs would cause it to spray, presumably into the face of whoever was stirring the cauldron at the time. There was no telling how much damage the potion could do to someone like Harry, who was also a Seer and prone to disturbing nightmares and visions.

"Here's where I need your help: I can't get out of it with Crabbe and Goyle sitting next to me, but if you can manage to seat Potter with someone who it won't affect as strongely, I can throw it in when Potter is turned away."

"Great! We can sacrifice someone else and put them through all that pain."

"Don't be daft! You know very well that the potion won't affect anyone nearly as strongly as it would hurt Potter."

"You're right. But why should it matter to you who gets hurt?"

"Are you kidding? Potter is the only person in the world who has survived a duel with Voldemort - and three times at that, the first time when he was only one years old! If anyone can stop Voldemort, besides Dumbledore, it's him." Draco turned away from Hermione during this last admission. "Well, are you going to help me or not? You're in the best position to convince Potter to partner with someone who the potion won't hurt."

"Well, I have to think about it. It obviously can't be me because it could reveal my meetings with you, and it can't be Ron because he knows too many secrets about Harry." She thought of the trouble Remus and Sirius would find themselves in and shuddered. "It can't be June because she's a Seer, too, and it can't be Neville because. . .because of his parents." Neville had never told anyone, except, Hermione suspected, for June, but Hermione had read a book on the trials following the fall of the Dark Lord. Her curiosity had been sparked by what happened with Barty Crouch last year. She had come across the mention of Neville's parents. She had found them listed as incurable patients at St. Mungo's in London.

"I know about Neville's parents," Draco said with a shudder. "My father told me," he added before she could ask. "Neville was there when it happened. He was a toddler. They hid him in a chest, but he was in the same room while they tortured his parents."

Hermione turned her head away from Draco as her eyes started to water. She hadn't known. Who was this boy that had walked among them for five years? Everyone thought he was just stumbling, bumbling Neville. It took Hermione a while to go on. "Well, that leaves Dean, Seamus, Parvati, and Lavender. I don't know who it would affect the most, but I know that the girls both have a high interest in Divination." She made a face, remembering the strong smell of tea leaves from Professor Trelawny's attic room. "So we'd better leave them out incase they have any inclination towards Seeing. I suppose the best person to pair Harry with is Seamus, since he's been having trouble with potions lately anyway. I can tell Harry that Seamus needs help, but he was too embarrassed to be partnered with me because I'm a girl. And it will work, too, because Harry's been particularly adept at these latest potions."

Draco looked at her in awe. "You know, you'd make a fine Slytherin." Seeing the look on Hermione's face he quickly amended, "I meant that as a compliment. Not all the Slytherins are pure-blood, Voldemort-crazy freaks like me and my friends. Oh dear, did I just call those things friends? How quickly the mind slips."

Hermione almost laughed out loud, but caught herself in time. "I just happen to be good at planning things," she said mischievously.

"Hey, Hermione." She looked up. He looked a trifle embarrassed. "I know you can't go to Halloween dance with me or anything, but. . . if I happened to ask you to dance, would you?"

She looked at him impassively. "I don't think that would be a very good idea. What would your friends say if you actually fouled your own skin by coming in contact with a Mudblood?" she spat.

He sighed. "Whatever."

"Don't pretend now that you suddenly don't care about my blood," Hermione said sarcastically.

"I don't!" he snapped. "I don't care about your anything." He glanced at her, his eyes traveling downwards a second and then looked away quickly. "Well, I admit it disturbs me a bit - it's against everything I was taught."

"Who else doesn't care about the whole Pureblood nonsense?"

"Snape," he snorted.

"Snape?" Hermione was confused. "But I thought he was the edging you guys on. I mean, your password our second year was 'Pureblood'."

"And how did you-" Draco started to question, but then changed his mind. "You're kind of creepy, you know that?" Hermione shrugged. "It's not like Snape's hiding it or anything. I mean, look who he hangs out with all the time - Filch is as Squib as they get."

Hermione rubbed her chin thoughtfully. "That's true - I never thought of it that way before. I just figured they were both good friends because they both have nasty temperaments, but Filch is a Squib, isn't he?" She swung her legs off the windowsill and stretched them out. "Is that all, or do you have any other mortal problems where you need me to save your skin?"

Draco didn't appreciate the question. "Say, what did you do with the Skeeter woman?"

"Oh, her." Hermione blew her bangs back. "I let her go, with a promise to keep her ugly nose in her own business. And don't think I've forgotten how chummy you were with her last year."

"Chummy? Don't make me sick. She was useful at the time, so sue me. And don't pretend that you're all high and mighty - you're doing the same thing now. Maybe we're both more alike that you think." He stared at her intensely.

She avoided his gaze. "Oh, puh-lease! Don't even pretend that we have anything in common. I might be able to sometimes understand you, but I could never accept you."

Draco smirked. "I've been thinking about what you asked me last time, about why I wanted to be a Death Eater back then."

Hermione started towards the door. "Don't try to justify yourself to me - I don't want to hear it."

"No - wait!" He tried to grab her sleeve but missed. "Please?"

She turned back to him. "Fine, but make it quick."

"I wouldn't want to interrupt your studies any further - Merlin knows you would fail without them," he said sarcastically.

"Well, tell me!"

Draco started to look defensive, but he told her anyway. "It's - kind of hard to explain. When my dad died, I felt like - he left his work unfinished."

"How sweet - so you offered to kill innocent people because your dad never got around to it."

"That's not what I meant! Your parents and family are Muggles, right? So you feel an obligation towards them, even if you would never be able to live like that yourself. I felt a responsibility. . . never mind - you wouldn't understand. Go away." He swung his feet back out the window, his back to her.

She sighed. Could she ever understand him? She thought of all the horrible things Death Eaters did to people. But was it any worse than what Muggles did to each other? Visions of atomic bombs and terrorist attacks flew through her head. Both Muggles and magical people thought they had the right way to live - but was there really any difference?

"Are you still here?" Draco called over his shoulder. "I know you can't dance with me this Friday, but. . . Maybe we could dance now?"

"Huh?" Hermione hid her cheeks, which were burning, behind her hands. "Um. . .there's not any music or anything to dance to."

Draco grinned and started humming a popular dance tune from the Weird Sisters. He walked over to Hermione and put his arms gently around her waist. She was surprised that she actually enjoyed dancing with him. He was light and quick on his feet. Draco rested his cheek against Hermione's head. He sang softly in her ear. Hermione couldn't recall later how long they danced together, but it felt like forever. It was one of those times when the seconds become hours, and the hours in turn become seconds. They didn't talk. When they finally drew apart Draco kissed her on the forehead and walked out the door without looking back. It had taken her several minutes before she could make her way back to the Gryffindor common room, when she found Ginny on her way back. In the whole tumult over Harry's dream, she had forgotten to assure that Seamus would be paired with Harry.

------

During lunch she managed to talk to Harry alone and he promised he would try to partner with Seamus. Try isn't good enough, she thought. She wanted to let him know how important it was, but she couldn't make him suspicious that she knew something he didn't. She had no intention of telling a soul about her meetings with Draco. It scared her enough that now she felt like defending Draco whenever the Gryffindors went through their usual routine of Slytherin bashing.

She noticed June was abnormally quiet. "Did you start on the DADA essay yet?" Hermione asked her, trying to engage her in conversation.

June shook her head. When Hermione continued to talk with the unresponsive girl she quickly gathered her things and left the table. Hermione turned to Neville. "What's wrong with her? Is she okay?"

Neville shrugged. "Just memories. June's been having nightmares of when she was in a Muggle psychiatric institution." He looked at Hermione. "They didn't mean to hurt her, but they didn't understand. They thought all her visions and abilities were just hallucinations. Something happened on Halloween five years ago, and I don't know what. Llian says she always gets this way around Halloween."

"What happened? Doesn't Llian know?"

"He knows what happened, but he doesn't know why. June used to not be able to control her powers at all, especially when the Muggles were trying to convince her she didn't even have any magic." Neville lowered his voice and leaned closer to Hermione. "She killed a man at the Institution in Sydney five years ago. She didn't mean to - but I don't think she's ever gotten over it. She never talks about it. Never." Neville left the table to go after June.

Hermione was shaken. She could kiss Draco for confiding in her. To think what would have happened to June if she had been partnered with Harry - Hermione was beginning to learn even more about her by the day and was fairly certain that the potion Draco was going to make would harm her even more than Harry.

Hermione breathed easier when she walked into Potions class to find Harry already sitting by Seamus. Snape walked in and directed their attention to the page of their books where the ingredients and directions for the potion was listed. The sour man surveyed the class. "But I think we'd better switch up the seating arrangement to have the least amounts of catastrophes," he said casually. Hermione's heart sank as he made his way down the row straight towards Harry. "Seamus sit with Hermione," he commanded. "June go work with Harry. Ron, I think Draco could use a partner." Oh, no! It was the worst possible seating ever!

"Professor, may I speak with you?" she asked, jumping up and grabbing hold of Snape's cloak.

"What is this? This isn't a class discussion - get to work."

"But sir, it's important! Can I please speak with you?"

Snape paused. He seemed to sense something amiss in the desperation that was barely concealed in Hermione's voice. "Fine, come with me." He brought her out into the hallway. "What is it?" he snapped.

"Well. . . you see, sir - Seamus has been having trouble lately with these kind of potions."

"I know - that's why I partnered him with you. Are you finished inflating your ego yet? Or do you want me to announce to the class once more that you're an insufferable know-it-all?"

"Seamus really needs to be paired with Harry because. . .because Seamus has a crush on me! And if he's partnered with me. . .he won't be able to concentrate. He admires Harry. . .so he'd learn more if he was with him." She could feel the sweat tickling her back. That must have been the worst lie she'd ever told.

Snape grinned. "Oh, I see. I'll make sure to change the seating arrangements to reflect your twisted love-life. Just make sure to come to me anytime you have any personal considerations and I'll change the class to suit your needs." The grin disappeared. "June needs to be with Harry right now - she's having trouble of her own and pairing her with Neville would be plain suicide. Now, if you'll excuse me I have a class to attend to." He said nastily over his shoulder as he walked back towards the door, "But if you still object to the seating arrangements, I can always pair you with Malfoy. . ."

She was so frustrated that she almost cried. Why did he have to be like this all the time? Where was the man she had seen hug June with a smile on his face after the Quidditch tryouts? But she had more pressing worries to consider. How was she going to get out of this without hurting Draco or June? She knew that Draco would never willingly hurt June - despite the fact that she was the one who had killed his dad, he always seemed to keep an eye out for her. She wondered if Draco felt something for June - the thought made her blood boil. There had to be a way to get out of this. She needed to talk to Draco.

She watched Harry and June prepare their potion. She tried to make eye contact with Draco. She was so busy trying to motion to him that she didn't see Professor Snape standing right behind her. "Miss Granger!" he said suddenly, making her jump. "Five points off of Gryffindor for neglecting your potion to try to talk with your boyfriend." He looked pointedly at the table Ron and Draco were seated at. Draco looked horrified, obviously thinking Snape had been referring to him. Upon hearing the Slytherin's snickers around him he realized the teacher had been referring to Ron. He moved his chair a few inches away from Ron.

Getting in touch with Draco was out of the question. Without blatantly incriminating him, the Slytherins, and herself she couldn't stop him. June and Harry, she saw, were almost to the point where the hairs would be added. She would have to move quickly. What she needed now was a big distraction. She considered pouring extra lacewing into Neville's cauldron as he was seating right beside her, but she didn't want to get him in trouble too. She purposely spilled her jar of newt eyes onto the floor.

"Five points from Gryffindor for being so clumsy," Snape snapped as he refilled her jar at the front of the classroom.

Hermione walked back to her seat, but as she walked past Draco she pretended to trip, breaking the jar she was holding and spreading the eyes all over the dungeon floor. She jumped to her feet and gestured to the broken glass, "Look what he did! He tripped me!" She pointed to Draco.

"Excuse me? I didn't touch you." Draco had no idea what she was driving at. Was she going back on the plan? Hadn't she told him that putting the potion on anybody was better than putting it on Harry? Or was she betraying him?

"You tripped me on purpose because you're jealous! You always brew the worst potions so now you're trying to sabotage the Gryffindors!" It worked! The entire classroom broke out into fierce argument which in some places were reduced to fistfights and all-out brawling. Snape ran around the dungeon trying to restore order. He shoved Parvati and Pansy away from each other, who were trying to pull out each other's hair, and rescued Neville from the headlock Millicent had put him in. The tension between the Gryffindors and Slytherins had been building for so long without release that now it erupted unabated throughout the class room. Hermione managed to knock over several cauldrons near her in attempt to swat at Draco, who was backing away with an extremely confused expression on his face. "Miss Granger - look at the mess you're maki-ahhhh!" Snape had lunged forwards towards Hermione and Draco when he slipped on an eyeball. The entire class watched in shock as he flew through the air, arms flailing, and landed flat on his bottom in a very undignified heap. He climbed to his feet, snarling with rage. "Malfoy! Granger! Come with me at once!" He started to lead them to his office. This was better than she hoped! By the time they came back out June and Harry's potion would have already passed through the stage where the hairs could be added. She almost leaped and sang with joy, until she heard the screaming start at the back of the classroom.

------

June couldn't concentrate on the potion. Her mind kept on traveling back to Sydney almost five years ago. Harry added most of the ingredients for her. Snape saw that she wasn't even making an effort to help with the potion, but he didn't say anything. She suddenly realized that the whole room was in an uproar. Harry jumped over the table and started to join the fighting surrounding the table. June took over the job of stirring, wondering why everybody was so upset. She didn't see what was tossed into her cauldron. She kept on stirring, wondering if everybody had gone insane. It never occurred to her that something was wrong with the potion until it started making a funny hissing sound. She stopped stirring and leaning over the cauldron, peering down at the solution inside. She thought she saw something floating in it, so she leaned down even further until her nose was almost in the goo. Suddenly the liquid squirted up into her face. She accidentally breathed it in through her nostrils and mouth. She gagged, her head spinning. Before she knew it, she felt like she was being sucked out of her body. Someone started screaming - someone who sounded a lot like her. The last thing she saw was the floor move closer and closer until it filled her entire vision.

And then she was back. She was nine years old. Her tenth birthday was in less than a month. She was walking with her friend Shelley along the playground. They were walking along the fence together, hand in hand.

"Sometimes I wonder why we're here," Shelley said.

"What do you mean?" June asked.

"I don't. . .I don't want to be here anymore. I want to go away."

"But where will you go away to?" June was scared. She didn't like it when Shelley talked about going away. She was the only person that understood her. They both had the secret - the thing so private that they swore to never tell anyone. Both girls were different from everyone else. They could do things that other people said they shouldn't be able to do. Shelley could make it rain from the ceiling if she concentrated really hard. She could also change her clothes, which were all green, so that they would be pretty pinks and lavenders. The staff explained this as a mix-up in the laundry. June could read people's minds sometimes, and make her green beans taste like cheddar cheese. She sometimes had disturbing visions, the things that the doctors called hallucinations.

"I don't know." Shelley frowned. "Remember how we promised to never tell anyone our secret - how we can do things other people can't, like make doors close without touching them?"

"Yeah. . ."

"I think. . .I think I've changed my mind."

Now June was very scared. "What are you thinking?"

"I'm going to tell Dr. B. I already asked to see him during recess."

June paused to squat down besides an ant pile. She watched the small bugs carry a blade of grass into a hole in the dirt. "Can we trust him?"

"I think so. He said he'd be able to understand me, if I just told him the truth."

"Please don't," June begged. She had heard that line before, and it wasn't true. No one could help them. Ever.

"I have to!" Her eyes became wild. "I have to do something. I can't take this anymore. It's the last straw. If this doesn't work. . ."

June hugged her friend tightly. She didn't want Shelley to get hurt. They heard a voice yell from the other side of the playground, "Shelley!" It was her turn to see Dr. B. June wished her luck and went to go play on the swings. There were several girls already there. "You can't play here," they told her. She ignored them and continued to wait in line for the swings. "Hey, freak! You can't play here!" One girl reached out and touched June's elbow and started shrieking, "She touched me! She tried to spread her freak germs!" Another one pushed June. June started to get back in line when a rock came sailing at her and hit her square in the forehead. She left and went and sat on top of the slide instead. She had it all to herself. None of the other children would come near her when she was playing on the slide. Most were afraid to. She dug though her large pocket and retrieved the small poetry book she had bought at a bookstore the last time she was allowed out for a walk. The children had an hour of playtime in the morning, and an hour in the afternoon. She used her playtime to read. It was an adult book - there were big words and some things she didn't understand, but it didn't matter. She liked to feel the rhythm of the words, how they flowed together so seamlessly. She was twenty minutes into the book when she heard yelling.

Shelley was running across the playground. Anyone who tried to stop her was thrown away by an invisible force. She ran straight into the fence, which bent downwards as if God himself was pushing it down with his hand so she could run over it. June stood up and called, "Shelley!" Her voice was hoarse; she could barely hear it herself. June watched as she ran towards the street. There was the one instant, that fraction of a second, when June realized that she wasn't going to turn, that she wasn't going to run parallel to the street but rather straight into it, into the exact same spot that traffic was busily speeding past. There was the long second where June had time to raise her hand to stop Shelley, but by the time her hand jerked up and power started flowing down and out her fingers it was already too late. June heard a deafening squeal of brakes and a loud boom like a cannon. Without thinking, June heard a small pop and she disappeared only to appear next to Shelley, who was lying there on the road, looking nothing like herself, unrecognizable.

Shelley was gone; she couldn't possibly still be alive, but June heard a fragment of a ghost in her head, whispering, "He didn't. . .believe."

June rose slowly. The bystanders backed away fearfully from her. There was carmine light surrounding the whole of the girl. Her hair, lips, and nails turned a dark, furious carmine. She turned to face the horror-stricken crowd. "He killed her," she whispered. "He killed her!" Shelley was not dead. Shelley was not dead. Shelley was not dead. No, no, no, no, no, NO! June disappeared again and reappeared behind the big building where Dr. B worked. She climbed up the outside stairs slowly, relishing every moment. He doesn't know what's about to happen, he had no idea, he's going to pay, I'm going to show him how wrong he was. Her thoughts jumbled and tumbled about in an abysmal heap in her head. She opened the big metal door and walked into the building. At the end of the corridor, she turned left and entered through the double doors. They were usually locked, but she unlocked them with her mind. She could feel the power lie on her skin like static electricity. She found the room, number 101, and entered into the familiar tan-carpeted office, where she had spent so many hours this past year. Dr. B was sitting behind his desk, talking frantically into his phone. He seemed quite upset. As he should be. He dropped the phone on the ground in mid-sentence, mouth agape at the girl before him.

"You killed her," June accused him, her voice like icicles that cut straight into his heart.

He backed away from June. "I. . .I didn't know. I didn't know. Please," he dropped to his knees and sobbed into his hands. "I didn't know. I told her it was all a dream. I told her we would put her on stronger medications so she wouldn't have to think these things."

June shook with fury. The carmine light completely enveloped her and in a jarring explosion spread throughout the entire room, filling the air with a piercing whining sound. She collapsed to the ground, breathing hard. The entire room was askew, scorched papers flying everywhere, the couch in the corner smoldering. Dr. B was dead.

------

Hermione heard sobs around her. It took her a while to recognize that the strange gray square underneath her was a stone. She shook her head and climbed shakily off the cold floor to her feet. Most of the other students were crouched on the ground or else out cold, but they were starting to come to. She suddenly remembered what had happened: the potion! The strange scene in her head was a glimpse of what June was having to live through. Hermione rubbed her eyes and found that tears were streaming down her face. Snape was holding June, who was collapsed on the floor and feeding her a potion from a goblet. June would no longer project her memories onto those around her, but she would continue to relive them silently, however long it took her before she regained consciousness. Hermione looked over to see that Draco was crying too, but he quickly wiped them away before his friends could notice. He looked up at Hermione. She glared down at him. He shook his head and held his hands up, palms facing outwards - he hadn't known.

Snape quickly brought the class back to attention. He went through and emptied out everyone's pockets with a simple summoning spell. When he got to Draco, he studied the vial of werewolf hairs that came out of the Slytherin boy's pockets. He looked up at Draco, his face a mixture of unbelief and fury. "Five hundred points from Slytherin," he whispered. The Slytherins gasped. Snape helped Neville off of the floor and together they carried June to the fire place to bring her to the hospital wing. "Clean up this mess," Snape said over his shoulder as he left.

The class was completely silent.


	27. Conversational Interludes

(A/N: Trying not to be too confusing: anything from now on set off by ----dashes instead of asterisks will be either a flashback or a dream. Also, if you cannot bear the thought of Neville being anything more than the happy, bumbling idiot he usually seems and don't want to see his 'darker half', I suggest you leave now and don't look back. Enjoy!)

------

Conversational Interludes

------

Eliza smoothed the covers over June's still body and sat down on the stool next to the bed. Snape had cancelled his classes for the rest of week, which was fine with all the students at Hogwarts. Oliver was snuggled up in June's armpit, with only his pink furry tail sticking out. He had been extremely annoyed when Pattie had jumped on June's bed in attempt to swat at him when Eliza first arrived, but she quickly shooed the cat away.

Harry soon joined her. Lunch had just finished for the day and they all had almost an hour before their next class. "Hey, er, Eliza?"

"Yes?"

"I had this dream. . .and I think you'd better stay away from the library for a couple weeks, just in case."

Eliza looked at him suspiciously. What could have possibly happened in his dream to make him want her to stay out of the library? "Why?"

"In my dream you had found a book that was full of dark magic. It's magic started encircling you but you weren't able to recognize it."

"I would be able to recognize if a book was full of dark magic," she said, offended at his lack of trust in her competence.

"In the dream you didn't realize that it was dark magic. Just in case, I think you should stay away. Promise me?"

Eliza sighed in annoyance. "Do I have to?"

"Just humor me, okay? I might not even be allowed to tell you this."

Eliza knew what he was talking about. Florean had caught her eavesdropping on so many tutoring sessions that he finally invited her to come along with June and Harry. One of the first things he'd taught them was that sometimes revealing the premonitions before certain of their meaning and implications can cause more complications and harm than not. "What's that for?" she asked, indicating towards the bag Harry had laid down beside June's bed.

"Oh, this is Neville's things. He asked me to bring it next time I came by."

June was staying in a spare bedroom in Professor Snape's quarters. Neville had not left her side since the last Potions class, refusing both food and schoolwork. Both he and Snape had watched over her day and night without sleeping or eating until Dumbledore straightened them up. Under the Headmaster's direction, Snape had transformed his small study into a make-shift bedroom for the stubborn Neville and somehow convinced the two to not try to murder each other. Right now they were eating lunch with the Headmaster in his office, who was having a long talk with them. Llian, on the other hand, was going about life as usual, stopping by to visit June during study breaks and the few minutes he had between classes and Quidditch practice, but that was Llian for you. Truthfully, Llian's reaction made the most sense as there wasn't a potion in the world that could help June now; they simply had to wait for the potion in her to wear off, as adding any would cause her blood to become toxic and risk further injury. She would have to wake up on her own, and neither staying day and night by her bed like Neville, nor moping alone in silent contemplation like Snape would help her. Eliza was touched at their concern, but after three days of not eating, sleeping, or bathing, she thought they were acting a bit ridiculously.

Harry suddenly remembered that June still had the "Prophecies of the Children of the Stars". She had to have read it by now. There wasn't a book in June's possession that she hadn't finished reading within a week or two. He was about to ask Eliza if she'd ever seen June reading it when Llian walked in with Neville, who looked considerably downhearted.

"Is Dumbledore making you go back to class next week?" Eliza asked.

Neville's face darkened. "I'm not leaving," he said, sitting down heavily at the foot of June's bed. Eliza knew better than to question him further.

After a small silence, Llian attempted to change the subject. "Are you going to the Halloween Dance?" he asked her, his dark eyes sparkling.

Eliza blushed. "I - uh, I guess so." Maybe he was about to ask her to go with him. It would be a little last minute, she conceded, but decided she would be willing to accept an invitation from a boy who was intelligent, handsome, good-natured, athletic,. . .did she mention handsome yet? "Are you going?"

Llian smiled proudly. "I'm going with Cho!" Neville frowned.

"Really?" Eliza said, trying to hide her disappointment by looking interested. "I thought you two were. . ."

"It was hard at first. I mean, how would you like to date some one who practically ruined your life?"

"She understands-"

"I know. I'm just mad that I ever bit her. It's not exactly something you want to share with people." He shook his head and picked up Oliver by his tail, who started chirping violently. 'You can bite me anytime you want,' Eliza thought. 'Anytime.' He went on describing how wonderful Cho was until Eliza felt ready to vomit: how sweet and caring and kind -

"How can you go to a dance?" Neville asked suddenly. "Your twin-sister is in a near-death coma and you're worried about a stupid dance?" Neville stood suddenly and began to pace back and forth furiously. "Why does she always have to get hurt? I hate seeing anyone be hurt. I hate it!" He looked like he was holding back tears. Harry, who had been staring out the window, watched him silently.

Llian grabbed Neville by the shoulders and shook him. "Stop it, you! What good does my going to dance do for June? What good does your sitting here do? You have to stop this Neville!"

Neville hung his head down miserably. "I can't; I just can't," he whispered.

Llian drew him into a brotherly hug. "It's going to okay Neville. We'll take this one day at a time, okay? The only thing we can do now is wait and get on with our lives."

"Just don't jump from any more trees," he answered glumly. He tried unsuccessfully to hide the tears running down his face from Eliza. "I have to use the bathroom," he lied, fleeing the room. Harry stood and followed after him.

Llian sat down again next to June and he and Eliza watched her in silence. Eliza looked up to find Llian staring at the door. "Uhm, Llian?"

He jerked as if shocked. "Whu - what?"

"What did Neville mean? About jumping from trees?"

"Huh? Oh, that. I have no idea." He cut her off before she could reply. "I think Neville's. . .not always right in the head, you know? I don't mean anything cruel by that, just that. . .sometimes he's not all the way there. Although sometimes I think he's the kind of person who can look at a problem that had seven steps and jump from step three to step six without thinking anything of it. And it seems kind of crazy to someone else because he can't say how he did it, see?"

Eliza wondered if he would notice such intimate things about her if they were closer to each other. Neville not quite right in the head - well, he was known for being slightly befuddled. Eliza had always thought Neville was a bit of an idiot. She didn't know why June, who was such a sensible girl, was so crazy about him in the first place. They acted as though they were kindred spirits, but the bumbling Neville seemed nothing like the quietly intense June. "Well, I have to get to class," Eliza said.

"Me, too." Llian stood at the foot of the bed and started talking to June. "I'm going to class, love, and then Quidditch practice. I wish you could come to the Halloween feast with us. I could teach Neville and you to dance, although the way you two are they'd have to declare the dance floor a disaster area, and amputate both your legs from stepping on each other so much! I'll come by tomorrow after my morning run. Wake up soon, all right? Alright?" His voice broke. "Neville needs you," he whispered. "He's not doing so great. Neither is Papa. He can't bear to loose either of us, but you know how you're special to him. So come back or. . ." He turned and opened the door, his usual self a mask across his face. "Come on Eliza, dearest - we'd better get to class." He grandly offered his arm to her in mock chivalry and escorted her out.

June, lost to her own terrifying dreams, murmured into the still and empty room. She flung out an arm once, as if to grab something, knocking over a clock on the nightstand in the process. Little Oliver patted her forehead nervously and then burrowed into her hair, grumbling anxiously. June gasped and whispered, "No. Stay away." She rolled over towards the wall and hissed, "Draco, no!" and then was still.

-------------

Flashback

"Hey June, what's up?" Neville sat onto the step next to her. She had run away from lunch to sit on the stairway on a side entrance outside. It was unusually hot for being the last week in October, although the slight breeze made it more bearable.

"I don't know," she lied.

Neville took a deep breath and tried to approach the subject cautiously. "Llian said. . .that. . .something happened five years ago."

June pushed him away hard. "Nothing happened. Nothing fucking happened!" She started running across the grass towards the forest in the distance but he ran after her. After two months of training he was in the best shape of his life - he could run eight miles without stopping already! Granted his pace was little faster than a crawl, but he liked to repeatedly tell himself that it was the journey, not the destination, that mattered. She tripped over a root upon entering under the shade of the thick trees, allowing Neville to catch up with her by the time she got back to her feet. He lunged and reached out an arm to grab her book bag. She twisted out of it, but the momentum caused her to slam against a tree, turning her around so she was facing Neville. Without hesitation, he tackled her and they both fell heavily to the ground. He quickly pinned her arms over her head before she could scratch out his eyes. Undaunted, she continued to struggle and try to bite him. "Stop that June! I'm trying to help you!"

"You can help me by letting go!"

"No. I weigh more than you. I'm not moving until you tell me what's wrong." So much for trying to be gentle and subtle. Some boyfriend he was. Her face reddened and tightened as tears began to leak out the corner of her eye. Neville rolled off of her and they both sat up. He cradled her head in his arms. "Stop it now," he whispered gently. "Don't cry." He kissed her forehead, her nose, her lips. After a few minutes she pulled her mouth away from his and snuggled her head in the crook of his elbow. "Can't you tell me?"

"I. . .I used to have a friend named Shelley. She was like me; we both were witches raised by Muggles. No one understood us. We were best friends for life." She snorted. "For life. She killed herself. So instead of killing myself too, I killed the doctor who had betrayed her. He said he'd understand, but he lied. They always lied. He didn't understand so I killed him. I'm evil," she said simply.

"Right," he said sarcastically. It wasn't anything new for one of hem to hear the other list a myriad of grievances: I'm stupid, I'm too shy, I'm incompetent, I'm ugly. . .

She sat up and stared into this eyes. She looked haunted and empty. He shivered. "But I am," she continued. "You don't know these things that are in my head-"

"Those are just your visions, they're not you."

She shook her head. "I wasn't talking about those."

"Then what?"

"You wouldn't understand."

"Try me."

"Sometimes, I think things I shouldn't. Horrible things. I deserve to be punished."

"Like what? What 'things'?"

She was silent.

"June you can't do this your entire life!"

"Life! What life?" Her voice raised an octave. "I have no life! Do you ever wonder why there are so few Seers? The gift isn't that rare - it's living past your eleventh birthday that's rare. Don't you understand why everybody, especially Dumbledore, was so upset when they found out Harry was a Seer? Why do you think so many Seers in books are considered doomed?"

"That's not true. What will happen will happen - it's what you do with your life that matters, not how long it lasts."

She stared at him. "You already knew?"

He paused. "Llian and I. . .discussed it. He said the possibility of your living very long was very slim. He said. . .that's how it is with lots of Seers. He said you had a premonition. . .June what was it? What did you see?"

She leaned back against him. A squirrel scurrying around on the grass came right up to her shoe and chattered at her. She stretched out her legs and it disappeared. Neville couldn't stop his grinning; he liked squirrels.

"I hate being like this. I hate being all weepy and emotional. It disgusts me." Neville chuckled. "I hate acting like. . .like and icky girl!"

Neville shuddered in mock horror. "Next thing you know, you'll start wearing pastels and pinks!"

June clutched her heart. "The spirits help me if that should ever happen!"

"Or - you might even start collecting flowers!"

June hated flowers. She thought the rose bushes around the green houses were a waste of effort. "Awk!" June grabbed her head and rolled into a ball on the floor. "And then - the ultimate horror - I'll start actually wearing make-up!" She thought her roommates' attempts to color their faces every morning was misguided.

Neville laughed and flopped down on his stomach next to her. He rolled her over so that she was facing him and kissed her. They kissed each other with desperation. He started kissing her neck, her chin. She suddenly gasped. His right hand had slipped off her hips and up her shirt. He didn't remember moving it. "Sorry."

"We should stop," she whispered, her breath tickling his chin.

He tried to swallow the lump in his throat and nodded. Sitting back up, he turned away from her so she wouldn't see how violently he was trembling. His mind was full of horrific images of him and June. . .oh, the things he longed to do with her! Once Llian had dared June and him to walk through the lower dungeons, the old and now unused torture chambers. He pictured the instruments he had seen there in his hands and shuddered with pleasure. He wondered, not for the first time, if he were a sadist. It's just hormones, his grandmother would no doubt explain. It was his entire family's new party line for anything, from Neville's headaches to frequently mismatched socks: hormones! The dreaded chemicals that distorted minds, making innocent young boys wild and untamed savage beasts. The unstable agent which twisted tongues in knots and could even make some teenagers. . .immoral! In the absence of his father, Neville had had "the talk" with no less than twelve uncles, cousins, and grandfathers. Everyone in his family seemed to know more about him than he did himself. He wondered what his grandmother would say if she would see what lay inside his head. No doubt she would die of shock. He started walking back towards Hogwarts. He turned finally to look at June as he held open the door to the side entrance. "So what about this whole thing is bugging you." He knew better than to expect that to be all. June's reason were often so complex even she didn't understand them all.

"It's just a thought I had. I realized I didn't have much time left and that there wasn't anything good I would leave in this world and there's so many horrible things I've done which never should have happened and I'm babbling aren't I?"

"Yes, you are." He paused, looking both ways down the empty corridor. "It's too late to go back to lunch. Let's go ahead to Potions."

"Neville Longbottom wanting to get to Potions early? I never thought I'd see the day!"

"Shut up." He had a reason to want to get to class early. They started making their way down towards the dungeons. The halls were relatively empty since most people were taking the few minutes of after-lunch free-time they had to avoid classes until the last possible second. "You can't measure things like that, June."

"Huh?"

"What you said earlier, about everything you've done being bad. How do you know it's bad? You can't judge it like that. Why does everything have to be good or bad? What if it just is?"

"Neville, I've killed people," she said slowly.

"What if they deserved it, or you thought you were doing right, or you didn't have a choice?" He was thinking of the Death Eaters that had attacked her over the summer.

She stopped walking and whirled around to face him. "It doesn't matter who did or didn't deserve it. Don't you get it? I'm a murderer!" A Hufflepuff passing by them paled and looked concerned, as if he were about to stop and say something to June, but raced on down the hall instead. Justin always was a coward, Neville thought darkly.

"Shut up - I'm sick of your whining!" June looked surprised. "I don't give a crap who or what you are. You're Snape's daughter for Merlin's sake and I still love you!"

"I don't care what everyone thinks about me; I'm saying that I know what I am-"

"And now you can't accept yourself? Well, listen to me: do you trust me?"

"Yes," she responded instantly.

"Do you trust my judgments?"

"Of course!"

"Well, I accept you. So are you going to trust my judgment or not?" She started to interrupt but he continued. "And don't give me that crap about being doomed! You're going to live a long life and a hundred years from now the world will be full of little baby Snapes!"

She snorted and continued walking. "Is this the right stairway?" she asked, pointing to one they had already passed twice. He shrugged. "There will be no more Snapes," she continued as they went down the stairs and found themselves one level closer to the dungeons, hopefully walking in the right direction. "Llian and I are the last of the line."

"Then you'd better hurry up and get started. You have a world to repopulate. Isn't your secret desire to repopulate the earth with midget black-haired Snapes?"

"I'm serious. I hate children anyway."

"What do you mean?"

"I can't have children."

"Why not?"

"I don't think my body's capable of it. I've never had a period. You can't have children unless you get periods."

Neville paused, unsure of how these things worked. He tried to recall those conversations with family members about adolescent development that had embarrassed him so much at the time. "But. . .I mean, couldn't it be late? You don't even turn fifteen until November. No body matures at the same rate."

"All the girls I know started menstruating when they were twelve, thirteen at the latest - but all before fifteen."

"And you've talked to every girl in the world, have you? How many girls have you talked with?"

". . .A few. . ."

"Why don't you talk with your dad? Maybe there's a potion that could help."

"I don't want help!"

"No, listen - you should get this checked out if you're worried. A lot of things like this are hormonal - you can fix it if you catch it soon enough." He wasn't completely sure if this was true, but consulting someone else seemed like the best idea.

"I'm not worried," she denied. "I don't want kids anyway."

He looked worried but he shrugged instead of badgering her further. "Besides, you're not the only Snape in the world. There's your brother, too."

June whirled around to face him again. "You're kidding aren't you?"

"Don't tell me Llian's never had his period either?" he joked.

"Excuse me," a voice said behind them. It was Rachel, a sixth year talkative Ravenclaw who was a good friend of Cho's. They had stopped in the middle of the hallway, blocking her way. Neville blushed furiously; with June he was safe, but if another girl heard him talking about periods he would be mortified. Rachel narrowed her eyes at them suspiciously as she passed. June waited until Rachel turned the corner before continuing in a much lower voice. "Llian's gay."

"What!"

"Relax Neville - he's still the same Llian you've always known. Just because he's this way doesn't mean he's gonna go crazy and start hitting on you or something. Besides, you're mine."

"I'm not mad that he's gay, I'm mad that I never noticed. And why hasn't he told me?"

"He hasn't even really told me."

"What about Cho?"

"Cho? I don't know. Llian's had a long line of boyfriends. Sometimes he'll take girls out to dances or movies, but never steadily dated them. He's closer to his boyfriends and even once they break up he still stay friends and pen pals with them."

"But he likes Cho."

"I know. It confused me, too. He seems to really like her. Do you think you can just. . .change like that?"

"I don't think so," Neville answered uncertainly. "If he likes both sexes he could be bisexual."

June brightened. "He could still have kids and I could adopt some!"

"I thought you didn't want children."

"Oh yeah. . .Hey Neville? Who has a pale sea-green aura?" June stopped in front of a statue whose plaque proclaimed Baron Godric Black on it's base.

"Uh. . ." He looked at the statue closer. "Since when do statues of humans have four feet?" Two of the feet moved and a flustered Rachel appeared from behind it. "What are you doing back there Rachel?"

"Are you looking for something?" June asked.

Rachel looked back and forth between the two of them, trying to ascertain whether she had been caught red-handed or if they truly were this daft. Gryffindors! She held up a quill and said brightly, "Don't worry, I've found it!"

June clapped her hands happily. "Oh, good!" Neville said warmly. Once Rachel had run away, this time for good, he asked, "Do you think we should have erased her memory?"

"Neville!" June exclaimed. "That would be mean."

He laughed; trust June to side-step the issue of legality and base her judgment solely on her subjective meanness-factor. "Sneaky little eavesdropper," Neville muttered. "If there's one thing I hate it's people sneaking around where they shouldn't be - like your stupid father."

"I'm going to go talk with her," June said, starting after Rachel. "I can't let her ruin Llian's life."

"It won't do any good - Rachel's a gossip."

"I have to try. You go on to Potions and save me a seat. I'll catch up in a minute." She started down the hall, away from the dungeon. "Hey June!" Neville called. "What?" she answered. She stood at one end of the hall, he at the other. Even at this distance Neville knew every line of her face and curve of her body. "I love you," he said. She grinned and without a word was gone.

fin

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Harry sat besides Neville on the bathroom counter. "What are you thinking?" he asked quietly.

"I keep on playing the last conversation I had with June this Wednesday before our last Potions class. Everyone always says that they wish the last thing they'd ever said to someone they lost was 'I love you'. That's the last thing I told her - but it doesn't matter does it? I could have told her I hated her and she'd still be. . .I can't stand it! She's not actually sick, she's not dying, but she's not getting better - she's not anything. She's just lying there. I think the most horrible thing would be to have your life end like that, just lying there forever without knowing a thing."

"Like your parents?" Neville stiffened. He hadn't told Harry anything about himself beyond what he told anyone else: funny stories about his family, his overbearing grandmother - safe subjects, but nothing personal. Especially not about his parents.

"Yes, just like my parents."

"I saw the trial of the Death Eaters who attacked them from a Pensieve last year that I accidentally fell into."

"Oh." He liked Harry all right, but he didn't want anyone to know. The memory charm June had been abhorred with came to mind, but he pushed it away.

"I'm really. . .sorry Neville." No, not more pitying sympathies! Neville didn't want to hear Harry, the Boy Who Lived, try to comfort him about something he couldn't understand. At least he knew where his parents were. Every one told him he was lucky that his parents were still alive, but he rathered they would just die. He couldn't stand his holiday visits, seeing them as mere shells of who they once were. But Harry continued anyway. "It was in the middle of the whole Tournament thing last year, when everyone was going on about how brave I was." Harry took a deep shaky breath. He couldn't even talk about the Triwizard Tournament without trembling and becoming pale. "I remember thinking how wrong they are - how you're braver than I'll ever be."

"Good thing you know better now," Neville muttered.

"But I still think so."

"Me? But you're always fighting battles and. . .Harry you were already a hero by the time you were one years old. You survived an attack no one else did."

"As did you! We're both survivors Neville, me and you. Forgive me for sounding corny, but June's a survivor too. We're going to get through this."

"What if June doesn't want to?" He couldn't shake the thought of June's earlier depression. What she laughingly called a Mood, refusing to admit that it caused her more pain than anyone could imagine.

"Neville! Listen to what I'm saying. I believe in June. She's a stronger fighter than anyone I know. She's been in there three days already, hanging on for dear life, and she's not going to give up now." Memories flooded Neville's brain: June refusing to turn back during a run, wanting to break two hours. He remembered the small cat-fight she had had earlier with Rachel - it had taken seven students to pry her off of the Ravenclaw and three more to keep them apart. If they hadn't become on more agreeable terms, the Ravenclaws would likely have one less house member by now. "If she does die it won't be without a fight."

Neville was silent for almost five minutes. "So what are you saying?" he asked finally.

"I'm saying that June would want you to fight, too."

Neville threw his head back and laughed. "Oh, great! You're going to use the old she-would-want-you-to routine!" He looked thoughtfully over his shoulder at his own reflection. "But it works every time doesn't it?"

Harry smiled sadly. "Pfff! I guess I'll leave you two alone then?"

"Harry?"

"Hmmm?"

"What was June really worried about Wednesday when she was railing on about being a doomed Seer and never having grandchildren? What was the premonition she was so upset about?"

"Er, if she hasn't told you yet, then I'm not the one to tell you - I really think she should. It was a very strong one. . .You'll have to ask her when she wakes up."

"A new premonition? What's so horrible that she can't tell even me? Can't you tell me? What if she doesn't get better?"

Harry looked grave. "If she doesn't get better than it won't matter an ounce."

Neville paused before asking, "Are you mad at me?"

"For what?"

"For having June seated as your partner."

Harry studied Neville closely. "It was you then?"

"I went to Potions early to convince Snape to pair you two together. I knew something was wrong with her - you always can help her better than I can when she's upset over a vision. I had thought you would be able to keep an eye on her. This whole mess is my fault."

"It's Draco's fault!"

"I failed her," Neville said miserably.

"We both failed her," Harry added. "Neville go lie down - you look horrible. You'll frighten June right back into a coma if she wakes up only to see your sallow face."

"I am kind of tired," Neville said, stretching out his now long arms over his head. "But I need to be with her."

"I understand." Neville was relieved. "That's why I'll have to apologize in advance." Before Neville could even blink Harry had stunned him and was carrying him into Snape's study using the magical stretcher he had seen conjured his third year. He lowered the sleeping Neville onto the cot-like bed, hoping it would hold his weight, which was the same as always since the muscle that began to replace his fat was if anything heavier, and covered him with a blanket. They would all need their strength in the months to come if June's premonitions were true.

(A/N: If anyone wants to know and I doubt you do but I'll tell you since no one reads the authors notes anyway I was originally going to have Draco fall in love with June, because it would be so wonderfully messed up: falling in love with someone who'd killed your father - and I like things messed up. But you see how love is, it's uncontrollable! I wish June and Neville would chill. Stupid horny teenagers. I've always thought love and violence should be used sparingly, kinda like ketchup, and then only if the potatoes are dried out. So much for that. . .)


	28. Happy Halloween

(A/N: Same as before: flashbacks and dreams surrounded by dashes, normal being asterisks. Rating Change: Oh, uh, this chapter I guess is rated R for "inappropriate language". I don't use it much myself, but I've discovered that, when pressed, some of my characters do.) 

28.Happy Halloween

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She was running down a dark hallway. It twisted and turned, sometimes straight into walls, sometimes flipping upside down like a roller coaster. Objects flew past her, brushing by her hair as they whizzed by: pumpkins, Bludgers, goblets full of boiling green froth, once even a human-like creature with beautiful wings which could have been Llian only the wings weren't a deep teal but a soft white. Finally she emerged in a huge cavern where skeletons and ghosts were whirling around in a frenzy to nonexistent music. The only sounds were the clinking of chains and rustling of skirts, which did little to credit the hysterical movements of the inhabitants who twirled around endlessly. Suddenly they all stopped and turned slowly towards the door where she was standing. They were staring at her: the dark gaps in the skulls where their eyes should be bore into her like daggers. Their mouths opened in silent agonized screams. She tried to turn and flee, only to find a stone wall where the entrance should be. They lunged at her as one.

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Eliza woke up in the middle of the darkened library. She could see from the moonlight streaming in the windows that it was quite late in the evening. The Halloween dance! She peeled off the pages sticking to her forehead from the book she had been using as a pillow and whispered "Lumos!" Pattie was lying in her lap, purring while simultaneously trying to reduce the knees of Eliza's robes into shreds. The cat was no doubt daydreaming that she was tearing some godforsaken jungle beast into pieces for merely stepping where it wasn't allowed. She flipped the book over to look at the front. She must have fallen asleep reading "The Prophecies of the Children of the Stars" again. It was a great book, and she was almost finished - she only had half the book left. It usually only took her a few days to finish a book, but this one was special. She did want to hurry and finish it, though, as it's possession was illegal.

She jumped up, brushing Pattie onto the ground. The cat, although landing gently on her feet, yowled in contempt and stalked away through the chair legs. Eliza ran into the hallway, hiding the book at the very bottom of her book bag. She had very likely missed the entire dance as it was already past eleven. She had been hoping to work up enough courage to ask Llian to dance with her - as friends, of course, unless he rathered. . . Just great! It was probably too late to ask him now. And what was all this stuff on her robes? She saw green out the corner of her eye and glanced down to find bright green splotches on her black robe. She hoped she hadn't been walking around all day with stained robes. She ran back to her common room before a teacher found her and deducted points from her house. A lot of students called her a teachers pet, but only because she couldn't stand letting points be taken from her house, especially by her. You'd think people would be grateful instead of calling me names behind my back, she thought. Besides, she couldn't help it if she was smarter than them in class.

She walked into the Hufflepuff common room and froze: it was completely empty. The dance must still be going. She ran up the stairs and quickly changed. She almost left her stained school robes lying in the middle of the floor but on second thought threw them in the fire and incinerated them. The robe disturbed her: how did it become like that? It frustrated her not knowing how things happened, like those bruises she had found on her arm last week. . . The robe was stained beyond saving anyway, and somehow felt unclean to her. She quickly fixed her hair and put on just a touch of lipstick. Maybe she would still have time to dance with Llian after all. She raced down to the Great Hall and waited outside, bubbling with anticipation, while she put her ear to the door. It seemed completely silent inside, which made her shudder, remembering her insane dream. Must be soundproof, she mused, trying to shake the uneasy feeling that the ringing silence brought to her. She slipped in through the heavy doors and gasped.

All of the students and teachers were sprawled on the floor or over tables and chairs. Nobody moved. Eliza stifled a scream and ran over to the nearest person, who was one of the several who appeared to have collapsed while trying to crawl towards the door. She recognized him as one of the Weasley twins, but couldn't tell which. His lungs and heart were both functioning, but extremely slowly, and seemed on the verge of stopping all together. The front of his robes was stained with bright green splotches, as were those of others around the hall, she saw. She looked up to the teacher's table. Dumbledore's cheek was resting in a plate of pumpkin pie. Madame Pomfrey was likewise unconscious in her chair. Her heart constricted when she spotted her Aunt Minerva, who had fallen underneath the table. If this was what Eliza thought it was, the school didn't have much time left. She remembered a book of potions she had read one summer while extremely bored, filled with dangerous and illegal potions. Her mother had been so furious with her for reading it that she had taken Eliza's wand away for an entire month. Eliza often got into trouble because of her insatiable curiosity. But, like a cat, she liked to think she had nine lives. Vague recollects of a particularly nasty poison, almost completely undetectable except for it's sole identifying mark of turning cloth bright green, filtered through her brain. There was little chance of having enough time to save everybody; even if she started right away she had to find the antidote and gather the ingredients and brew the potions and find out what the correct dosage was - and calling in the Ministry would take too long, the Apparation bounds being all the way around the Forbidden Forest, which surrounded Hogwarts. Who could help? Her eyes racked the tables, chairs, and small dance floor, trying to find who was missing that could help her. Surely the entire school couldn't have been here.

Snape! Of course, he wasn't here - he and Neville would be with June. She began to throw several items of food onto fellow Hufflepuff Ernie's robe. When she poured pumpkin juice, the cloth turned bright green under the liquid. Bingo! She grabbed a goblet which hadn't been overturned and raced towards the dungeons. How in the world could they produce enough antidote for the whole school? They had half an hour left at the very least. She wasn't going to see everybody die around her again - she wouldn't! This time everybody would survive with her.

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Neville had awoke next to June after a particularly nasty nightmare. In it, he had gone to the Halloween dance without June only to have Llian run in and announce that she had died. Neville had begged to see her one last time, but Llian said that only those with black hair would be admitted to the funeral. Professor Snape had suddenly appeared, storming in and flaunting his terrifying presence, wearing huge black shoes which in real life would have looked ridiculous but in his dream were massively terrifying. Snape had started to stomp across Neville while Dumbledore looked on, pronouncing it as just punishment for killing June. Snape was suffocating him.

He had curled up on the bed next to June and ended up burying his head in her pillow. She looked like a small doll lying there, waiting for someone to pick her up and bring her to life. Leaning over to gaze at her life-less face, he brushed her forehead with several quick kisses. He heard a sound by the doorway and turned to find Professor Snape standing there observing him.

"How long have you been standing there?" he asked, groggily wiping his eyes.

"For half an hour. Should I start by asking what the hell you think you're doing sleeping on the same bed as my daughter or why you feel it necessary to assault her in her sleep?" His eyes were hollow and empty. His words were as cruel as ever, but he lacked the massive force that usually lay behind them. Even flat, his words managed to stir hatred in Neville's marrow.

"You're so conceited! Do you think you're the only person June-"

"Ten points off Gryffindor for talking back to a teacher; ten more for not answering the question."

"Leave my house out of this!"

"June does not like to be touched - I don't see what gives you the right-"

"Shut up!" Neville screamed, his fists in tight balls, his face becoming purple. "Just shut up! I sick of your patronizing bullshit! Do you think you're Merlin? Do you have any idea how many potions I've messed up because you made me so nervous while you were breathing down my neck?"

"If you cannot make a potion while a Professor is watching you Neville, I hardly see how you'll be able to make one in an emergency when the need and pressure is greater."

Neville paused. "I never thought about it that way. But it doesn't make any excuse for discouraging me at every turn.. All you do is make fun of my potions."

Snape drew himself up even taller than before, if that was possible. "I was trying to inspire you to work harder next time and to actually watch which and how much of each ingredients you are putting into your cauldron. You constantly hide behind your lack of natural ability in the subject by not even trying! No student will ever pass my class without being fully competent in Potions!"

"You don't have to bite off my head in the process."

"This is ridiculous! I can't believe I'm defending my teaching habits to a fifteen year old student! Fifty points off Gryffindor! The only reason I am not going to see you expelled for your lack of respect is June's silly fondness for you." He made a face, as if his daughter's reaction was unbearable.

"How can I respect you when you don't respect me? You don't control your daughter and you bloody well don't control me! How am I supposed to believe in myself when my teacher doesn't even believe I can in me?"

Snape turned in the doorway where he was exiting to say, "You're the only one who doesn't believe in yourself," he said quietly. He left Neville alone without another word. What was Snape trying to say? Of course the greasy git would blame Neville's behavior on anyone than a teacher, namely himself. Stupid bastard! Neville curled back up next to June and put his arms around her waist. She was so small next to him. Anyone would be small next to you, he told himself darkly. Stupid fat slob. Before he knew it, his eyes were blurring and he was falling back asleep, the anger evaporating off him like mist.

His sleep was disturbed by loud frantic voices. One of them sounded like Snape, the others unidentifiable. He was woken up by hands shaking him roughly. "Get up Neville!" It was Snape, who immediately started dragging him out of the door. "Whu, whu - what's going on?" Neville asked, his vision not yet focused. He stumbled into Snape accidentally, causing the man to hiss at him.

"The entire school has been poisoned by a potion that slowly causes the drinkers to loose consciousness, so that by the time anything is wrong with them they are too drained to run for help or to even brew the antidote. It is tasteless and smell-less, identifiable only by it's tendency to stain cloth bright green. It is called Raazala - its brewing and its antidote are incredibly complex." He hissed this quickly in Neville's ear as he dragged him along the corridor to his private storage. Eliza and two house elf were already there, gathering ingredients and cauldrons. "We have to move quickly," Snape addressed the entire room. Both Snape and the two house elves frantically gathered ingredients as he talked. Eliza looked pale, but otherwise seemed stable.

Neville interrupted, "Sir, what do you mean the entire school? Surely-"

"Yes, the entire school Neville. The pumpkin juice was poisoned, and everyone at the feast is now under the potion's spell. Eliza was not there because she fell asleep in the library, and Dobby here was nursing Winky back to health from her hangov- er, illness. The other house elves likewise are poisoned." They were done gathering ingredients. Snape and the elves magically transported the large quantities of ingredients, Neville had no idea where they had come from, and they went quickly to the Great Hall, Snape in the lead and explaining the procedure. "Each of us will get a table (Dobby Ravenclaw, Neville Gryffindor, Bilkes Hufflepuff, Winky Slytherin, and myself the faculty, dance floor, and all the students I can manage to reach in time). I will magically write the ingredients and directions in the air in case you dunderheads forget, and-"

"What, me brew a potion? An antidote at that?" Neville was flabbergasted. "I'll end up killing my entire table for sure! Why can't we just called the Ministry?"

"Dobby has already dispatched a note to the Ministry and to the Apocrathry in Hogsmeade, but they may not reach us in time. We must administer the antidote as soon as possible. You will make the potion and you will make it correctly!" Snape's voice was threatening and commanding as always, but Neville detected a hint of desperation to his words. Neville was going to kill his own classmates! He, who had never boiled a correct potion in his entire life. Snape glanced into the bathrooms besides the Great Hall for any students. There were only two in the girl's bathroom, who had thankfully only been fixing each other's hair when the potion overtook them. Snape magicked a stretcher and brought them with him. What a horrible way that would be to go, Neville thought. On the loo! Snape continued, "Leave anyone with nonhuman blood until last, as the potion's effect will not be as deadly." They entered the Great Hall, and Snape started setting up the equipment and magicked the instructions for the potion's brewing on the ceiling. "Nonhuman meaning all the house elves, Llian," (Eliza paled at being forced to pass by Llian) "Hagrid, Draco," He listed the names of all the students and faculty who had nonhuman blood in them. "So that we don't risk an overdose, magically mark each person you administer the dose to with a bright red dot on their forehead. Now go each of you - time is of the most importance!" He was positively spitting with his last words, "We will not loose a single person - do you understand me?" They all nodded, flinching from his raised voice and accusing, pointing finger.

Neville tried to grab his robe as he swept past towards the front of the room. "Professor! I can't do this." Snape turned on him, his fangs bared, eyes starting to glint red. His calm words belied his deranged features. "You can and will do this Neville. You must; we have no other choice." And then Neville was on his own, vast amounts of ingredients heaped on the table in front of him, his classmates lives balanced precariously in his very incapable hands. Even Eliza had it easier - Snape had given her the small quantity of antidote in the school's storage, as she was only a fourth year and hadn't finished with the poisons unit yet.

But there was no time to think: Neville started measuring ingredients as specified above. "Two lacewings, crushed to a powder; ten dragon scales, stirred in Bubulous tree sap; one dried newt. . ." Neville set up a row of ten pots and went down the row for each ingredient. He prayed that he didn't accidentally skip one. Just the slightest variation would ruin the whole potful, but it was the quickest (and under the circumstances only) way to work. He finished all ten pots in the amount of time it would have taken him to set up the ingredients for a potion in class. Must be the overwhelming freedom of not having that slimy git breathing down your neck, he told himself. He administered the potion as directed, one quarter a gavein full (the magical system of measurement), adding or subtracting a bit depending on the person's weight and how much it appeared they had drunken. Neville's head was in a whirl at the amount of information he was required to process at each person, but surprisingly it didn't seem to take very long.

Suddenly, on his eighth potful, he turned to administer the next dose to find that he had reached the end of the table. He looked down at his watch and found that it had been almost twenty minutes since they had left the dungeons. He had not only brewing ten potfuls of a complex potion, but also administered it to an entire table full of students in less than twenty minutes! He almost shouted for joy at his remarkable feat, but then he noticed how his comrades were doing and the full horror of the situation struck him. Winky was only halfway down her table; she looked extremely weak in the first place, and her movements were jerky and befuddled, as if she had just woken up. Her potion looked flawless, the exact right color and texture, but she was going too slowly. Dobby and Eliza were still finishing up their tables, and Snape had the entire dance floor to contend with. It had already been almost twenty minutes! The only reason the entire hall wasn't dead was because it was an extremely slow acting poison.

Without thinking, Neville grabbed his two remaining pots and started his way down towards Winky's table, stopping to help each person on the edge of the dance floor he passed. It wasn't until he was a quarter of the way down Winky's table when he was suddenly confronted with Draco and realized which table he was helping. Slytherin! He couldn't believe it! He didn't doubt for a minute that were his and his patient's roles reversed, they wouldn't even lift a finger to help him, or any Gryffindor for that matter. Well I'm not them, he thought angrily, skipping by Draco as Snape had instructed. If he hadn't been so pressed for time he might have stopped to muse why Draco had nonhuman blood. Wasn't his entire family over-obsessed with the whole Pureblood nonsense? Neville was completely Pureblood himself, but he didn't think for a moment that it made him any better than Dean, or especially Hermione. He continued until he was almost to Winky, and then spent the rest of his remaining pot on students in the dance floor. Someone bumped into his side right after he had administered the last dosage in his cauldron. It was Professor Snape. He was furious. "What the bloody hell do you think you're doing? Who the fuck do you think is going to help your classmates if you're over here screwing around on the dance floor."

A calm had enveloped Neville as soon as he had started brewing. It made him take in the situation objectively, with relatively little emotion to the horror around him. Thus he managed to not rise to Snape's venomous bait, as he had on so many previous occasions. "I already finished with my table, sir. I went to help Winky with her table and then went across the dance floor at the edge by the tables in rows so that I didn't miss anybody."

Snape ignored Neville and continued to sweep the dance floor in lightening fast movements. Finally he surveyed the room and shouted, "Everyone finished?" Eliza had two more people, which she finished quickly, and the rest were merely checking to make sure they hadn't missed anyone. "Good, now go back to your respective areas and the administer the same dosage to the rest, those with nonhuman blood. If you're unsure of how much to give them, err on the side of too little, the opposite of what I asked of you with those completely human. It was stupid of our poisoner to pick a potion that is human specific. If you want to poison a roomful of people there are a wide variety that are just as effective with any species." They all brewed several more cauldrons with their already used ones and finished up in the Great Hall. There was no doubt in Neville's mind that had Snape wanted to poison the entire school with the intent to kill, there would not be a soul alive in Hogwarts.

Once they were all done, rather than relaxing the atmosphere only became more terrifying. Now they had administered the antidote and done all they could, now they had to begin the horrible process of waiting, a task Neville found he was not fond of. Snape waved his wand and all the food and plates disappeared, except for a great quantity of the pumpkin juice, which he had set aside by the door for evidence. "Neville and Winky, gather your cauldrons and come with me. Eliza and Dobby, watch over the sick and make them as comfortable as possible. Please explain to the Ministry what has happened when they arrive, which should be any minute now." With those words, he swept out of the room, Neville and Winky in tow. Neville had no illusions that Snape had picked him out of confidence - rather, he had brought with him the two he most wanted to keep an eye on: Neville, the blundering idiot, and Winky, who was still rather red-eyed and continued to look confused. "The dosage is different and far less serious for the house elves, but if they are not given the antidote within twenty-four hours it could prove fatal. We will start in the kitchen and then scourge the school to make sure that none have drunken the juice and left to finish a task in another part of the castle."

Neville was suddenly struck with horror. "Sir, what if a student left the hall for their rooms? They'll die!"

"Noble sentiments, Mr. Longbottom, but I did not sense any warm-blooded creatures aside from animals in the house common rooms. I smelt no human blood there." So now it was back to Longbottom. When Snape had been frantic earlier when the situation was a full-blown crisis Snape had automatically addressed him as Neville. He was on first name basis with no students, except for his own children.

Neville breathed a sigh of relief. "So they're all okay," he rambled, half to himself, half to the corridor they were walking down. "Trevor, and Crookshanks, and Snuffles, and-"

"Snuffles!" Snape suddenly turned ghost white. "He's here again?"

Neville hadn't even known Snuffles had gone. "Yes. . .he's here. If it was possible, I'd even say that he seemed excited about going to the feast tonight, but I didn't see him-"

Snape suddenly grabbed Neville's collar, almost causing the cauldrons he had piled one on top of another to fall to the ground. He took the cauldrons out of Neville's hand, filled one cup with the antidote, and gave them to Winky. "Go on down to the kitchens," he commanded. "We have business elsewhere." Winky stood there a second, unsure. "GO!" he screamed in her face, causing her to jump and scurry away obediantly.

Snape ran all the way to the Gryffindor common room, dragging Neville with him. Two months ago I'd be out of breath, Neville thought, pleased with himself. Had Snape gone totally mental? "Password?" the man snapped.

"Overlook," Neville barked out in a voice to match - at least in volume. "I thought you said that it only affected humans? Does it affect dogs, too?"

"Only particular dogs."

"How'd you know to find him here?"

"I sensed him in his vicinity. Now shut up and help me find him. Where would he be?"

"Probably in our rooms," Neville suggested. He didn't even need Snape's death-glance to immediately start sprinting up the stairs, showing Snape the way. He flung open the door and leapt towards Harry's bed, where Snuffles usually lay. The dog was there all right, curled up in a ball and apparently in a deep sleep, but instead of giving it the antidote Snape turned to Neville. "I need your wand; this incantation requires two people," Snape ordered.

"Why?" Neville demanded, suddenly suspicious. "What are you going to do to Harry's dog?"

"Do you want to save him or not? Repeat after me," Snape commanded. Neville sighed and repeated word for word the incantation that Snape recited. He managed to save an entire hall full of people from what had seemed like sure death - surely he would do so again now. Snape touched the end of his wand to Neville's and a bright light flew from their wands and surrounded Snuffles. Neville shielded his eyes from the light, and when he looked again instead of a black dog there, a man was curled up at the foot of the bed, his black hair strewn across his pale, thin face. Snape immediately pushed him over onto his back and poured the antidote down his throat. Neville gasped in shock - it was a face he had seen through out the newspapers, a face that every single relative he'd ever had had warned him to stay away from, and now Snape was saving him: Sirius Black!

Snape quickly fed Black the potion, and ordered Neville to retrieve a glass of water. When Neville had sprinted back from the bathroom, he found that Black seemed to have taken a turn for the worst. "Damn, damn, damn, damn," Snape hissed.

Neville became increasingly nervous. After several minutes he grabbed Snape's robe. "Sir. . .I. . . think he's dying. He's not breathing."

Snape looked up at Neville, his eyes murderously dark. "No one," he whispered. "Not a single person is going to die of poison while I am Potions Master at this school. NO ONE!" he bellowed, making Neville jump and trip over a jacket someone had left lying in the middle of the floor.

Snape starting giving Black mouth-to-mouth resuscitation. "Professor. . ." Neville was at a loss for what to do. Why should he want to rescue Black? Wasn't this the same man that had tried to kill Harry? "Maybe he's better off dead - he's a serial killer. He tried to kill Harry." Maybe that was it - Snape had freed Black and hired him to kill Harry! But that couldn't be right either - there had been bounteous amounts of opportunities for Black to kill Harry all year. That he had taken the poison himself was proof that he hadn't made it. Unless he was suicidal, Neville quickly amended.

Snape grimaced as he answered, "Black never tried to kill Potter." As much as Snape was trying to exude calmness, Neville could see that his desperation had reached a new pitch. He suddenly started chuckling softly as he looked down at the still man before him. Neville was struck with how many similarities they shared: their long dark hair, their long narrow noses, their gaunt cheekbones, their highly arched eyebrows. Could they be related? Is that was this man was causing Professor Snape so much pain? "Are you giving up then?" Snape addressed the body. "Is this it? After everything that's happened, all the countless times we tried to kill each other?" He chuckled softly. Definitely, definitely mental. "You let someone else get the better of you before I had the joy of killing you myself?"

Snape stared at the antidote in his hand as if it were a cursed object. Neville noticed that Black's chest was moving slightly. "Profes--" he started to say, but Snape waved him away and continued to rant.

"Why? You fucking prick? You think you're so great? You think you've outsmarted me? Why the hell are you doing this? I hate you! You mother-fucking asshole! Damn you! DAMN YOU!"

Now Neville was completely confused. It was apparent from the loathing in Snape's voice that he hated Black - and yet Snape had turned away and couldn't even look at him.

"Um, sir? He's breathing."

Snape started, but then began to cast diagnostic charms as if nothing out of the ordinary had happened. Neville let out an entire lungful of air. He hadn't even realized that he'd been holding it in. He wondered how Harry would have taken it - he seemed overwhelmingly fond of his dog. Thinking back, Neville realized that you simply couldn't ask for a better dog than Snuffles. When Neville had thought him no more than a dog he had been touched at Snuffles' single-minded devotion to Harry. Was simply an act? Or had they found something between them, some spark of love, a serial-killer who was on the run and the Boy Who Lived?

Neville's thoughts were interrupted when Black made a coughing noise. "You bastard!" Snape whispered. "Where's Harry's trunk?" he asked Neville.

"His. . .his trunk? Uh, it's that one." Snape went over and after some digging pulled out a cloak made of a material that looked like it was liquid. "Is that an invisibility cloak?" Snape nodded and covered Black with the cloak.

"You don't talk to a soul about Black, do you understand?" Snape demanded.

"You're asking me to ignore the presence of an escaped convict because a teacher asked me? A teacher I dislike at that?"

"Dislike?" Snape sneered. "Have my lost my place on your list of the hated then? I don't have time to explain grown-up situations to little boys like yourself Longbottom. I can assure you that I keep my mouth closed only under Dumbledore's strict orders. Had the choice been mine, two years ago Black would have found himself. . . .Never mind. Keep close to me: we're bringing him down to my personal chambers. He can use the study that I made into a bedroom for you. No one will look there." They took a back way down the dungeons, one that Neville knew he should never try himself, lest he find himself on the other side of the lake.

When they passed June's room on the way to Snape's study the enormity of what had happened overcame Neville. He ran to the bathroom and puked like he'd never puked before. He felt like his entire digestive system was forcing it's way up the length of his body and out his mouth. His stomach and throat burned with acid. The toilet seat felt cool against his cheek. He felt someone put a damp cloth on the back of his neck. Hands held his head up (his neck had mysteriously turned to rubber) and forced some liquid down his throat, murmuring that it was an anti-nausea potion. Finally, his vision sharpened enough that he could see several feet around him, although the haze lingered and threatened to enclose him at any second. He flushed the toilet, disgusted with himself, and staggered to the counter. Here Harry and he had had their last discussion before the Halloween feast. It could have been their last ever, he mused. The mirror greeted him with the sight of a haggard, sickly looking reflection. After splashing cold water on his face and rinsing out his mouth he could recognize it as his own. But there was now another face behind his.

June stood behind him. He continued to look into the mirror. Now he was hallucinating. If he looked back she'd be gone. He remembered reading a story where the main character had seen people in their mirrors, people that weren't there. Dead people. "Are you a ghost?" he whispered in disbelief. It couldn't be true. After everything that had happened, all the effort and heartache to save the entire school while the person he loved more than anything else in the entire world had died alone. Oh, the cruel irony! Neville didn't know if he even had any tears left to cry. Why had he deluded himself into thinking that he'd ever be happy in life? How could this happen to June? First the Death Eater's attack, then the burden of the wand, and the Demeator's attack, and the burden of the Haran, and. . .the list went on and on. Why couldn't June just be left alone? Why would anyone want this, this deliberate chaos and wreakage? Perhaps in her death she could find the peace that she never had in life. He didn't know if he could resign himself to a life without her - perhaps he'd kill himself first.

She smiled sadly. "I think you should lie down if you're seeing things, Neville."

He turned to face her. She was still there. "Are you real?" In answer she leaned forward and kissed him on the lips. She made a face when she pulled away. "Yuck," she exclaimed. "Your breath stinks. Are you sick? That was you who I heard throwing up before, wasn't it?" He nodded. "So what's happened while I was asleep?"

He hugged her fiercely, burying his face in her beautiful hair, and began to sob.


	29. A Little Despair, Some Happiness, A Bit ...

(A/N: I would like to officially state that I do not think that meanness, cruelty, or child abuse always justifies cold blooded murder. I am not an advocate for the Society for the Rights of Serial Killers although I am president of the chapter in my hometown. . .just kidding. The flashbacks of Snape's past from here on will somewhat parallel the events of Shirley Jackson's marvelous novel We Have Always Lived In The Castle.) 

29.A Little Despair, Some Happiness, A Bit More Despair

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He was walking down the corridor again, just as he had when he was sixteen. It was the summer after Orlando's "accident," as his suicide was cryptically referred to. The dark paneled walls did little to welcome the sunlight in through the windows. It was a gloomy house, destined to forever be dark and forbidding. Light was an alien object, to be squashed and dimmed out of existence. The halls of the Snape manor never slept: though its inhabitants sometimes perceived the house as being still, the house elves knew that it never truly rested. The house, mansion really, was a force of its own. It's breath rattled through the air ducts and it's skin shivered like the loosened shutters, and it watched. It always watched.

It was watching him now, the loathsome creature. Severus had always told himself that he would some day burn the Snape manor to the ground - today could very well be that day. When he reached the door to the kitchen he paused and listened to the house elves inside, bustling around in preparation for the Snape family reunion. Every Snape in the history of a long line of Snapes would be there. They must: every will made by a Snape stipulated that the inheritor attend the family gathering. It was held every five years and Severus loathed it as surely as he hated his sworn enemies, those Marauders. They thought they controlled the school - they pulled the teacher's strings with the grace of a master puppeteer, and the world laughed with them. But Severus didn't laugh. He had nothing to laugh about.

He entered the kitchen importantly and announced loud enough for all to hear, "Master Snape wishes your presence in the small study beside the library. He has several last minute adjustments for the food before the guests arrive in half an hour." The house elves began muttering among themselves. This kind of behavior was not allowed in civil company, but with Severus they were on less than favorable terms. They, with the rest of the world, turned their back to his suffering. He didn't know what he expected of them. They were, after all, house elves, and their word was worth absolutely nothing. The word of even a hundred thousand of them wouldn't stand up against the word of one human, no matter the status, rank, or mental state of the human. But as impossible as their situation was, Severus hated them. They turned their backs to him, pretended he wasn't even there. They had let Orlando die - they had failed in their one duty, to protect the inhabitants of the house. For that, they must die. Severus used to be their friend, but ever since his father started. . .

They quickly cleared out the kitchen, leaving Severus to his handiwork. He wasted no time in arranging the dishes and drinks to his liking. It's about time we had a proper family gathering, he thought to himself. A family gathering that I am in control of. He measured the liquids before adding them to the dishes throughout of the room. Not a thing was left untouched. They would stuff the food into their mouths, all of them, and Severus would wait and watch them die. Slowly. . . And he would enjoy every minute of it. He would savor the look of pain on their faces, the realization, too late, that they had been poisoned. He pictured them crawling towards the fireplace to Floo, too weak to Apparate, doubled over in agony, clutching the stomachs which would soon empty their contents all over the floor. They would collapse and stain their own hand-woven rugs and bear-skin rugs, and the ones made of darker magic that could fly through the skies or wrap around thieves, causing death by suffocation. He recorded it all carefully in his notebook, the amount of poison he stirred into each pot, what dish contained which and how much of each poison. It would all come in handy later. By the time today was through he would have created a notebook that would be used by teachers throughout the world as their poison text for class. He would be famous! The adventure that awaited him brought to mind his favorite quote, paraphrased to say that to become famous he would have to get caught.

Severus didn't care about being caught. They would probably send him to Azkaban, and he would die there. The thought cheered him; he looked forward to the family reunion even more. Orlando was already dead, taking half of Severus with him into the Underworld. He had nothing to live for anymore. Half of his soul had been ripped from his body. How could he live? He put his vials carefully back in the hidden pockets in his robe as the house elves filed back in, considerably disgruntled (who wouldn't be after talking to his step-father?), so he pretended to stir a nearby pot for cover. It was not an unusual or suspicious sight for the house elves to see: he enjoyed cooking as thoroughly as he enjoyed brewing potions. In truth, he enjoyed those things which he was better than everybody else at, which gave him, he thought, a wide range of activities to choose from. He left the kitchen and climbed the stairs to his bedroom. Once inside he reviewed what he had recorded in his journal and smiled. It was a smile that should never have to appear on a sixteen year old boy's face.

------

Arthur Weasley sighed and dumped the parchment down on the desk in front of a sour looking man who angrily pushed his oily hair out his face to peer disinterestedly at the document before him. "I'm afraid your record is against you, Severus. The Ministry feels that a man of your capabilities must be punished for the mere sin of being coincidentally at the same school at which a mass poisoning occurred. You are to be arrested and sent to Azkaban to face further inquiry."

Azkaban! Snape shuddered involuntarily. How ironic: after all the horrible things he'd done willingly, all the chaos he'd created, all the deaths he had caused - he was finally being sent to Azkaban, the place of his nightmares, for something he wouldn't dream of doing. Fate was playing a cruel trick on him. Oh Fortuna! He should have been sent to Azkaban years ago rather than now, after he had finally found something (someone, actually) to live for. A cruel, cruel trick. " I did not, nor will I ever, poison any member of this school's faculty or student body. I am prepared to go before the courts under Veritserum and swear on this."

"I will, of course, back Severus fully. This is foolhardy - if it weren't for Severus we would all be dead! You know as well as I that Severus has never looked back towards his dismal past. Only someone under Voldemort's influence could possibly want this carried out," Dumbledore stated.

"I'm against it as well, but if you read this document you find that it states that court proceedings will be suspended until further notice," Arthur replied.

Severus paled considerably. They all knew exactly what that meant: Severus's case would be pushed around continually while Severus rotted, slowly dying, in his prison cell. If he left, he would never come back to Hogwarts again.

"I cannot allow this!" Albus started to insist. "The entire school will resist this verdict - by force, if necessary!" he threatened.

"Hear, hear!" encouraged Minerva, her eyes ablaze.

"Calm down and let me finish what I came here to say," Arthur pleaded, a small smile playing on his lips. "As Minister of Magic, it is my job to officially escort Professor Snape to Azkaban. Therefore, as Minister of Magic I am awarding Severus Snape the Order of Merlin, first class - the highest available ranking in the magical world and the greatest honor." No longer able to conceal his pleasure, Arthur smiled brightly at the speechless room.

Minerva stuttered, "But that hasn't been awarded in years!"

"What?" Snape finally came to his senses. "You snarky bastard! Leading us on like we were ponies at a circus." Try as he could, Severus was unable to hide the relief on his face.

"I tried to get the same for your helpers that night, but the Ministry strongly resisted giving such an award to students and house elves. I tried reasoning with them - when's the last time so many people have been saved in one night? - but the old bias remain. But I do have a friend or two in the Wizardry and Witchcraft Achievement Recognition office and I was able to secure special awards, for all four of them. A trifling, but I felt the acknowledgment was necessary. I must say I had the most trouble getting the house elves even recognized as sentient beings. I think it's time their status has some official reviewing."

"And you're just the man to do it," Albus said.

"I just might be," he replied thoughtfully.

"Kit-kat?" Albus offered.

Arthur looked curiously at the unfamiliar red wrapper half-covering the Headmaster's chocolates. "Those are Muggle inventions, are they not?" he asked, pleased that he was able to recognize them.

"Yes, Miss Snape gave them to me as a Get Well present. It seems they're her favorite candy." Dumbledore had been one of the few whose after-affects of the Razaala Poison lingered for several days. Most of the students were up and about within twenty-four hours, but recovery, like the poisoning, was slow business and thus those who were no longer in peak shape, like the old Headmaster, stayed in bed longer.

"The Ministry at least did a fine job in nursing this school back to health. Finding things they can do right is becoming far and few between. I tell you, the Ministry likes to think it's still the Medieval Ages, and it might as well be for all they care. They oppose change so violently, even if it's for the better, often refusing to see reason. Half of them don't even believe that Muggles are real people!"

"Ridiculous," muttered Snape.

"Utter nonsense," agreed Minerva, helping herself to a piece of Albus' kit-kat.

"I have enough on my plate already - but I would like to eventually at least raise the children and elves' achievements," continued Arthur.

"I think they'll be quite overcome with what you already have for them," said Albus kindly. "I've said it before but I'll say it again because it bears repeating - you're one of the greatest Ministers of Magic I've ever encountered in my long years, and I have seen a few. And what's more important, you're a good man."

"Thank you Albus; it means a lot to me. I must admit that sometimes I wonder if the risks are worth it. Our house has almost been burned down twice - I just barely managed to keep it out of the papers so the children wouldn't worry. Molly's beside herself with the amount of curses and Howlers that are being sent to me through the Post everyday. Percy's had so much stress at work lately he doesn't eat or sleep right. And I've even disrupted my eldest two sons lives."

"They're doing splendid here, and neither one of them blames you in the least. Your family supports you," Albus said.

"I've heard that Care of Magical Creatures has become even more interesting since Charlie arrived," Severus offered grudgingly. "June and Llian go on and on."

"And your Billy has become quite taken with Fleur - he doesn't mind being here in the least, we rarely see those two apart," added Minerva.

"Still. . ." Arthur sighed and shook his head. "I suppose the stress comes with the office. At least the little ones are safe here at Hogwarts."

"And even Hogwarts is not completely safe anymore. We have an agent on the inside," Severus said gravely.

"On the inside? Are you sure?" Arthur asked.

"It has to be true. No outsider could have done such a devious poisoning job without being spotted by someone - all the students and house elves have been questioned thoroughly," Severus answered.

Arthur looked confused. "But then they would have had to poison themselves too! Unless you suspect one of those two house elves?"

"I seriously doubt their inclination to do it, and I also know they could not have possibly done it," Severus answered smoothly.

"But wasn't the poison sloppily made? Isn't that why it took even longer than usual to work, allowing you time to save everybody?" Weasley asked.

"That's exactly why it could not have been either Winky nor Dobby. I observed that their potions were flawless. I compliment them fully when I say that only I could have brewed a better potion. Even Neville's antidote which, quite uncharacteristically of the boy I might add, had it's small merits came no where close to the perfection of the elves' potion."

"It's no longer safe anywhere it seems. Still, I'm worried what I should do with the children this summer - I don't know if it's safe for them to come home."

"Your family and yourself will always be welcome within Hogwarts wall have you any need or desire for our assistance," Albus said. "Will you be staying for the feast tonight? I assure you the food has all been carefully examined for poisons."

Severus snorted. "A waste of time. The next time the 'poisoner' strikes they'll be using a different tactic."

"Next time," asked Arthur. "What do you mean?"

"This seems a bit too much like our other attack to be coincidental. Each time the perpetrator struck once, on a seemingly blind impulse for what could kill the most amount of people with the resources available. First, there was the attack on the house elves; considerably sloppily done with the knife left behind in a classroom, killing half a dozen house elves where any one could see and stop them and then fleeing before they could be caught. Second, there were the mountain trolls who were led here; dismantling the ward that kept them out-"

"What? I never heard about that!" Arthur protested.

"We didn't want to worry the students. At the time it seemed like a freak occurrence, that the ward 'somehow' became dismantled, but in light of recent events I'm quite certain it was intentional. Third, the entire school happened to be drinking the same drink for several hours, long enough to poison the entire hall, if it were done slowly. These attacks are bizarre and completely random. What's more, we know that the attacker is not very strong. They were only able to attack house elves, for instance, who are extremely strong magically but easily overpowered physically. So perhaps someone small in stature. The ward was dismantled improperly so as to alert the school of the situation. The poison was the deadliest the perpetrator could probably find with the least complexity, and so it would have taken a full hour to run its course. There are more complex poisons that would have done the job more thoroughly. There's no way to predict these random attacks - the only way to stop them is to find the person behind them."

"Yes, but can we do that? Do you think one of the faculty members could do such a thing?" Arthur asked.

Minerva quickly answered, "None of the faculty would-"

"No, we were wrong before and we could be wrong again. We misjudged Quirrell did we not? We also all misjudged Sirius Black," Albus said. Severus looked murderous with rage at the mention of their former DADA professor's name and almost completely insane at his former classmate's name.

"And Crouch..." Minerva supplied unnecessarily. None of them had forgotten the events of last year during the Twi-Wizard Tournament.

There was a small silence in the office as the four considered the recent events at Hogwarts. Arthur addressed Albus, "I believe I will take you up on your offer for dinner. I'd like to be the one the announce the Ministry's decision, if you don't mind."

"Of course not! The students would be delighted," Albus said, his eyes twinkling merrily at the thought of the look on Neville and Eliza's faces.

------

The look on Neville's face was one of utter disbelief. He looked past June, who was sitting besides him and then back out over the lake. The giant squid was sunbathing on the shore not far from the rock on which they sat. Occasionally it would make a grumbling sound and a huge bubble would come out of its mouth and rise up into the sunlight. Neville was currently trying to decide whether to try to talk with his girlfriend reasonable or to simply run for it. Knowing he would regret it, he resisted the instinct to bolt. "A marathon!" he exclaimed. "Do you have any idea how long a marathon is June?"

"Twenty-six point two miles," she answered smartly. She pulled a flower out from the ground and attempted to tie it around a strand of Neville's hair.

"But I've only been training two months!" he protested.

"By the time the marathon starts you'll have been training almost four months," she answered.

"And your knee was injured less than a month ago, and it still gets sore sometimes."

"No it doesn't," she lied.

"Do you want to have arthritis when you're twenty?"

"Do you know how many people have asked me that? And it's a stupid question anyway. We don't each have to run the whole thing. They had relays too - a two person relay and four person relay. If you wanted to do the four person we could get Harry to run with us, since he runs with us on the weekends anyway."

"Great, what fantastic options - so I can run twenty-six miles, thirteen miles, or six miles?"

"Pretty much." She finally gave up on the flower, which didn't want to tied in a knot. "Eat the rest of your sandwich," she commanded. "This is supposed to be a picnic. You eat at picnics. Pick it up, good boy, and put in your mouth. Now chew. . ." She forced the peanut-buttered and jellied bread into his mouth and down his throat. "Some day you'll be able to do this on your own. And yes, we're going to run."

"You are going to run," Neville corrected. "I'll come and cheer for you, but that's it!"

"Oh, come on," she pleaded. "Please, please, please? You can run six miles easy!"

"Not in a race. I'd be the slowest relay member - I'd drag down the rest of the team."

"We don't have to race it-"

"You race even your training runs. Every time we get back to the castle you sprint for the front door just so you can say you beat us."

"Not true," she said pushing him back onto the rock. She propped an elbow up on his chest and peered down into his stubborn face. "I sprint because I'm so happy to be back; and half the time because I really need to use the bathroom. You'll have fun doing this - I promise you'll be glad you did."

"You said that the time you made me run the course you promised was five miles but was actually eight."

"So, what's the difference between five and eight - or ten for that matter? You finished, didn't you? And I bet you thanked me afterwards. Well, once you could bend your legs without pain again, that is. Please run with me? I'll give you a kiss if you do," she teased, leaning close and batting her eyelashes playfully against his cheek.

He put his arms around her waist. "How about I don't go and you kiss me anyway?"

She pouted and pulled away from him to sit back up, folding her arms across her chest. "You're no fun!" She angrily reached down and pulled up some blades of grass growing between the rocks and started to tear them into small pieces.

"Stop - stop that!" He reached for her hands but she jerked them away. "What did that poor grass ever do to you?"

"I'm releasing my destructive urges, if you don't mind." He waited silently for her to continue badgering him. Less than ten seconds later, she abandoned the grass and started pleading her case again.

"We get free chips at the end," she mentioned casually.

He snorted. "Yes, it would be worth it to suffer from excruciating pain and sore muscles for free chips. Do you realize you have strange ideas of fun?"

She laughed and threw her arms around his neck and kissed his cheek. "But it doesn't cost that much. I can give you Muggle money for it. You also get a t-shirt and a medal."

"Excuse me? Who gets a medal? Are you mistaking me for someone who is fast?"

"Yes you, silly. Everyone who finishes gets a medal. A finishers medal. And they're supposed to be pretty."

"And how are you so certain I'll even finish?"

"Of course you'll finish!" She thought for a moment. "We'll make you run the first leg, so then you'll be too guilty knowing three people are coming after you to drop out. Then you'll have to finish."

"You evil, evil woman! You should have been in Slytherin, like your slimy bastard of a father." She punched him in the ribs. She was becoming annoyed with Neville constant anger towards her father. It hurt Neville more than she meant - she threw mean punches. He moaned and clutched at his chest. "You've mortally injured me! I'll never see my sixteenth birthday!" Was it his imagination or did she just pale at that last sentence? "I hope you're happy. Now you may sit and watch your best friend die a slow, painful death."

"Oh, don't worry - if I ever kill you it will be quick and gruesome. Now shut up and finish eating," she commanded. He obeyed. When they were done, Neville brushed the crumbs off his new fall robe (the summer growth spurts had required an entirely new wardrobe) and started shoving his things back into his book bag. "Ready?" he asked June, who nodded. They grasped each other's hand and simultaneously pulled each other up to a standing position. Neville leaned too far forward and stumbled over his own feet, knocking June onto her backside.

"Watch out, you klutz!" she said angrily. "I swear I never tripped so much before I met you!"

"Watch out yourself. Remember the only reason you met Harry the first time over the summer was because you tripped - quite on your own accord. If you're not careful someday you'll fall down the stairs and end up breaking your neck." Seeing her suddenly vacant expression he stopped. "June?" She didn't respond, as if in a small trance. He hugged her, rubbing his hand in small circles on her back, which usually helped her if she were having nightmares or visions.

Her eyes slowly refocused on the boy who was peering into her eyes. She heard him distantly ask if she was okay. She nodded vaguely and continued walking. Her eyes were still slightly unfocused. She wondered why he was holding onto her arm so tightly. "Sorry, I guess I just zoned out." They both knew there was some thing else. "I was thinking. . .about what happened last week. . .when I was. . .sleeping. . ." Her whisper was so quiet he could barely hear it. As they continued walking around the lake back to Hogwarts an awkward, fragile silence formed a blanket over them both.

-------------

The flashbacks came to her as nightmares.

She was floating on her back in a mixture of blood and bile. White and brown globs drifted past. The sky above was colorless, not quite black, but not any color really. It was disorienting and surreal. Something brushed past her leg. Lifting her head, she found a rotting corpse full of festering wounds. Yellow liquid oozed from it's skin and swirled in the dark pool around it. She had been here forever. Time had no meaning in places like these. She warily reached down a foot to feel for the bottom but her head slipped down an inch too far and the vile liquid entered her mouth. She spit and gagged repeatedly, trying not to vomit.

"Somebody?" she cried out into the still air, tears streaming down her face. "Somebody help me, please?"

No one answered. She was going to be here for all eternity, alone and terrified, rotting in this pool of indescribable stench. Was she in hell?

"Let me out!" she screamed, slapping the liquid around her hysterically. "Help! Help me!" She swam straight forward. Her arms soon became tired but she continued. By the time she bumped into something hard she was completely out of breath. It was a wall, impenetrable, which rose as far up and across as she could see. She looked up and found a huge movie screen on the wall. She swam back a couple yards and looked up again. It was blank.

"Hello?" she called. "Is anybody there?"

The movie screen flashed 'I am here' in huge white block letters and then was blank.

"Who are you?" she called.

'I am you' it answered silently. She stared at the blank screen. What the-

"How do I get out of here?"

It was blank for a few seconds before finally answering 'You don't.'

'No one ever leaves here.'

'They only stop watching.'


	30. Prophecies

30.Prophecies

June was writing furiously in her notebook, ignoring Neville completely. The ordinarily shiny hair sticking out from her sloppy ponytail looked very dull in the library's soft lights. She could at least pretend I exist before I become bored out of my mind, Neville thought. He became so dull that he started ripping pages out of his notebook and folding them into different creatures: a swan, a dog, even the traditional Muggle airplane. If only I were as good at my classes as making these meaningless paper animals, he thought. I might as well be a toad, he added. He stopped folding for a second and wondered where that came from, but he had forgotten already. He took one of the swans and hurled it at June, pretending that it was really flapping its wings. It sailed gracefully over the oblivious girl's head. Poor aim as always - which, in an ironic sort of way, made him a good Beater. The other team had no idea what to expect of the Bludger once Neville had smacked it, and he could smack it pretty darn hard. Of course, that wasn't always a good thing. He had already broken Llian's nose once, although Madame Pomphrey had fixed it in less than five minutes.

It was hard for him to believe it was already November. It seemed like just yesterday when he had first arrived at Hogwarts, yet it seemed like he had known June forever. November - yikes! He had to find June and Llian a birthday present. Then again, if she really was going to make him run a marathon he wasn't sure he wanted to give her any presents. He knew better than to think June was going to settle for the four-person relay. She did the same thing during training runs: "Oh, it's only five miles, surely you can do five miles; we've almost done five miles, let's add a couple on; surely you can do ten miles can't you Neville; we've already done ten, what's a few more going to hurt?" It'd be the four-person relay today, but next week it would be the two-person relay, and within a month she'd be convinced she could do the entire marathon - and Neville with her. He only had a month and a half left to train! Was she completely crazy? He shook his head and chuckled softly - he already knew the answer to that one.

He saw Dean out the corner of his eye goofing off around the Curses and Counter Curses section. "Hey, I'm going to go talk with Dean. Okay June?" She nodded vaguely, not even completely understanding what he was saying. Her mind was emerged in another world, one of her own making. He sighed and started off across the library. It had been exactly a week since the Halloween feast and June was still hiding something. Her behavior at their picnic lunch an hour ago had only confirmed his suspicions. He couldn't push her to open up - the harder anyone tried to make her talk the tighter she clammed up. Maybe some time apart would do both of them some good. At least until tonight's dinner - it was going to be a sort of Get Well/Welcome Back feast for the students, faculty and house elves after the week they had off from school to recover. All the mediwitches and mediwizards who had nursed the entire school back to health were the guests of honor. Many students now took after Mad Eye Moody and would drink only from a flask they carried with them at all times, but everybody would attend - the food was promised to be spectacular.

The boy hidden in the shadows of the nearby bookshelves watched Neville walk out of sight before approaching June. He stood behind her, watching her scribble a few more sentences with her incomprehensible handwriting before snatching the notebook away. "Hey!" she exclaimed, turning around to confront the culprit. "Oh, it's you."

"Indeed," he said, helping himself to the empty seat to her left. "Have you told them yet?"

She glared at him before answering, "It's none of your business. Give me my notebook back." She reached for it but he kept it from her grasp. "Stop being so childish! What's this all about?"

"Florean thinks you should tell them and I agree."

"Do you? Why? I have no reason to. One, it would upset them. Two, they can't do a darn thing about it anyway. Three, it's none of their business. It's my problem, not theirs."

"But it is their problem. June, they all love you. They would sacrifice their lives, even their souls, for you. I think they have a right to know. They would be hurt if they found out later that you hadn't told them even though you knew all along. Maybe you disagree, but shouldn't relationships be built on honesty?"

"Right," she said sarcastically. "Just like you told Ron and Hermione everything?"

He sighed. "But I do now. Listen June, those few months when I kept everything from them was the most miserable time of my entire life, and that is saying a lot. If nothing else, do it for yourself."

"I'll think about it."

"June-"

"I said I'll think about it!"

He was silent.

"I'll tell them tonight after the feast," she finally said, her face pale but determined.

"Do you want me to be with you?"

She glanced at him uncomfortably. "I'd rather be alone with them."

"Sure," he said easily, hiding his hurt over being shut off from her tight circle. "You'll be glad you told them. You'll see."

Instead of snapping at him like he expected, she picked up her notebook and opened to the page she had stopped at. "I sure hope so," she said. She gave him a small ironic smile and said, "Thank you, Harry. You've always been a good friend to me."

"So have you." He looked intently down at his knuckles. "I'll miss you."

She punched him in the back and grinned. "You're not gonna get rid of me that easily, chico!"

------

The Great Hall was packed. The crowd spilled out into the hallway where several smaller tables had been set up. There had been quite a number of parents who had withdrawn their students from Hogwarts, some who had left the country altogether, but many had stayed. If Hogwarts fell, after all, where would it be safe anywhere? All the student's parents and family were invited, as they had been there all week visiting their recovering children. Neville was squeezed in between Gran and Uncle Bert, a massive man with a huge laugh and a belly to match. Harry, for some reason, looked extremely uncomfortable around Neville's uncle and had deftly switched seats before the feast started. There was a swarm of people standing in the back, waiting for Professor Dumbledore to enter and officially announce the feast. The jovial atmosphere in the room was overshadowed by a fearful aura: everyone started laughing a little too easily, a little too forcefully, as if they were afraid of missing their cue, forgetting their lines in the script. Finally Dumbledore entered flanked by Arthur Weasley, the Minister of Magic, and Professor Snape, the latter who the past week had been assuming the position of bodyguard by shadowing the Headmaster everywhere.

The whole hall clapped as the old man made his way to the front of the room. More than a few worried glances (as well as one or two half-hidden smiles of satisfaction) followed his slow, almost awkward movements. The bounce was gone from his step, but when he turned towards the crowded hall, holding his hands up for silence, his eyes still held their lively sparkle. "I wanted to take the opportunity to address everyone about some very urgent business. I hate to put a damper on what is an attempt at a happy occasion, but I must say what needs to be said. The time is past for doubts: we are at war. There is no neutral territory in war - you are either with us or you are against us. Many of the people in this room will be killed: friends, family, teachers, classmates; but no one's lives will remain unscarred."

He surveyed the room. "As it stands, there is a traitor in our midst - in this very room, sitting among us. We have reason to believe that the attack on the house elves a month ago and the poisoning was done by the same agent. I tell you this not to induce hysteria, but to warn all of you to be on your guard."

"Constant vigilance!" barked Moody, who was standing in a back corner eying the crowd suspiciously.

"If anyone sees or hears anything that seems odd, no matter how insignificant it may seem, feel free to come to my office and speak with me privately. My office is always open to anyone - student, teacher, or house elf - who wishes to speak with me."

Snape tugged on Dumbledore's robe and whispered, "Headmaster, do you really think this wise? You have just announced that you know there is a traitor in our midst. I don't want you to put yourself in any-"

"You heard what I said and it stands. I am perfectly capable of protecting myself, Severus, as you well know."

"But still-"

Neville watched this quiet exchange curiously, wondering what they were whispering to each other. Dumbledore turned back to the crowd again. "There will be stricter rules from here on. No students may go outside unless accompanied by a teacher. Students must report straight to their common rooms after dinner. No students are to roam the hallways - if they need to go to the library or hospital wing, they may call a teacher to accompany them or else travel in groups of five. Five! No less. Teachers will escort students to their classes and will be assigned a time to patrol the grounds at night. These rules will be enforced to the letter - I expect no misbehaving in this serious matter. Which means no midnight studying sprees in the library," --his eyes bore straight into Eliza-- "no early morning flying alone in the Quidditch field," --a glance at Llian-- "no roaming across the Hogwarts ground to visit faculty members for tea after dark," --his eyes rested on the infamous Gryffindor trio-- "no sneaking out to the Forbidden Forest in the middle of the night to practice on musical instruments," --he caught June's eye-- "no after-midnight secret meetings in the towers," --even though his eyes roamed near the back of the room instead of at the tables, Hermione could have sworn he was looking at both her and Draco at the same time-- "and most definitely no sneaking out to Honeydukes." He didn't have to look pointedly at the Weasley twins for everybody to know exactly who he was referring to.

"Before the feast begins, I must tell you one more thing: a prophecy has been made of which all of you should be aware. We are at a cross roads in time: the final battle, the end of this devastating war, will be decided before this school year is out. We will either enter into a reign of darkness which will last for almost a hundred years, or we will enter a rocky era of change which will bring growth and eventually peace to the world. Voldemort (the entire hall flinched) will either gain control or be defeated forever within the year. That is why it is imperative that we choose our future now - will we stand and fight together or fall separately?"

Dumbledore bowed his head in contemplation. The silence at his last sentence was deep and oppressive. June, Neville thought to himself. He'd bet anything that prophecy had something to do with June. The Headmaster continued. "But let us do what we have come to this feast tonight to do: not to predict our deaths but to celebrate our lives." He certainly could have worded that a bit more cheerfully, Neville thought (or more happier, he amended, as June would no doubt incorrectly attempt to phrase it). "A week ago the entirety of Hogwarts, save for five, were balancing on the brink of death and have since made a complete recovery. It is only fitting that we now applaud those who speeded along our recovery. First, I would like to thank the parents and family of our students and staff who supported Hogwarts in it's time of need so heartily." The room erupted into applause, mainly from students who were thumping their grinning parents on the back. "Second, I would like to thank the Ministry of Magic for its full cooperation, especially the Minister of Magic, Arthur Weasley, who has been simply marvelous, as always, this past week." A group of redheads at the Gryffindor table standing on their chairs and hollering led the cheers, which made Mr. Weasley's cheeks turn bright pink. "Third, I think an extra special applause goes to the medi-witches and medi-wizards who worked around the clock to nurse our sick school back to health." The applause went on for almost five minutes as students and parents alike whistled and stomped their feet in approval. The Weasley twins helped add to the noise with a few magically induced sounds, making their wands emit pops and sizzles with mini-fireworks.

Once the noise died down he continued. "Now, around this time a week ago I'm sure all of you are by now aware of the six people who were, thank the spirits, not at the feast for various reasons. Professor Snape and Neville Longbottom were visiting June, who was in a coma. Dobby was caring for his sick friend, Winky, both of them exemplary house elves. Eliza, ever the diligent student, had fallen asleep reading a book in the library." There were scattered nervous giggles at this from students and teachers who knew what a bookworm Eliza was. "Because of these five, not a single causality or even lasting injury occurred." The applause for these five was tremendous. Winky and Dobby, who were listening at the door with the rest of Hogwarts house elves were soon swarmed with people trying to shake their hands at once. The other house elves looked uncertain and uncomfortable at this inappropriate conduct, but many were unable to hide the shy smiles that had become glued to their faces. The Weasley twins hauled Neville onto their shoulders and displayed him proudly to the hall. Llian leaned across the Hufflepuff table to hug Eliza and kissed her cheek. (I'll never wash my face again, she thought - or not, she decided, since that would be gross).

Surprisingly, Professor Snape stepped forward and asked permission to speak. The students quieted instantly, trained from years of his strict classroom behavior. "I have been asked before by a student why I constantly glare over my student's shoulders as they work, belittling their efforts, as it causes some of them to become nervous and spoil their potions. I replied that if a student, him in particular, couldn't even make a potion with my watching them, they would fail miserably when placed in a situation when the need for their potions was urgent and the pressure immense. This student had since been placed in this exact same hypothetical situation and I am now forced to eat my own words." The entire school, faculty included, gasped in disbelief. Snape, admitting he was wrong? Colin pulled out a camera to take a picture, but Harry quickly confiscated it. "You see, this student never believed he had any talent at Potions - he considered himself a failure, doomed to wreck havoc in my Potions lab and melt innocent cauldrons left and right. But when pressed, he made ten cauldrons full of a perfectly brewed antidote for the Razaala Poison in the same amount of time it takes him to find the page in his textbook where the ingredients are listed. The entire Gryffindor house as well as a quarter of the Slytherin table had him to thank for personally saving their lives.

"I know that I am not the most liked of teachers, quite the opposite I daresay, but I have never set out to intentionally harm my students. I. . .care deeply about every one of the students in this school." He spoke in a monotone, but there was an intensity to his words. Snape showing emotion? It had only taken the near demise of the entire school, as well as his daughter's near-death coma. Students began to shift uncomfortably in their seats. As obviously painful as it was for him to speak these words, he continued. "I was petrified last Friday at the thought of loosing a single student, faculty or staff." He cleared his throat, bracing himself. "I can honestly say that without this boy's help over a hundred people would have lost their lives last week, the margin of time we had left being that slim. I'm sure by now that all of you know which student I refer to. Neville, please stand." Neville nervously obeyed. So they were on a first name basis now? Or was it just a front? No matter how uncharacteristically Snape appeared, Neville was far from ready to fling away his deep-seated bias against the Potions Master. "For showing complete competence in brewery, for making and administering a complex antidote successfully, for keeping his head in a catastrophic situation, and for being one of the most courageous Gryffindors I've ever met, I award Neville Longbottom three hundred points!" Snape was clutching his hands into fists as he spoke, his dislike of losing the House Cup that strong.

"Good man, Snape," Fred grinning, pounding poor horror-stricken Neville on the back.

"Not such a bad chap after all," agreed George.

Neville, meanwhile, was trying unsuccessfully to ward off his entire house from jumping on him simultaneously. Snape giving points to him? Was this some kind of joke? Neville hugged back all the arms that were thrown around him and cried for all the classmates and friends he had come so close to loosing.

But Snape wasn't done yet. "There was another student I must now discuss. This particular young lady came from a family known for Arithmancy, and had a fancy for Divination herself. When this girl first to this school, I was skeptical that she could excel at Potions. Truthfully, it's probably her hardest subject and although she had no knack at it, her hard work and dedication to her studies almost rivals Hermione Granger." A few bits of laughter erupted from the crowd. Hermione didn't appear to be thrilled to have a competitor. "This young lady passed the tests with ease, but struggled in the lab. She even came to me after class to argue a grade that hadn't received top marks, something few students have dared to do. I explained to her that her book learning wouldn't do her a bit of good if her potion-making abilities weren't top notch. I told her all her knowledge wouldn't help an ounce in a serious situation where the need for a potion was imperative." Snape's face looked almost apologetic - an expression few people had glimpsed on his normally gloomy countenance. "Once again, I was wrong. That night one week ago, she correctly identified the poison used and which dish on the table was drugged. If she had simply run to me and I had had to investigate myself before gathering the ingredients, we would have lost over half the school from the time wasted."

"For keeping and using her wits, and for correctly making and administering an antidote before even having finished the poison unit in class, I award Eliza Bilkes, and the Hufflepuff house who owes her their lives, three hundred points."

He tapped his foot, annoyed, as he waited for the applause to diminish. "I'm quite sure that most of you hate speeches as much as I do, but I must say one more thing. I can never thank these four enough - Winky, Dobby, Eliza, and Neville - for what they have done for Hogwarts, not with words and not with any amount of money in the world. We reward you, with points and wages, but we all know that no award can truly equal your actions last Friday. I was particularly impressed with Dobby and Winky's potions. You see, despite never having formal schooling and despite Winky's being sick, both of them made absolutely flawless potions. I don't think even I could have improved on their work." There were mutters (some low growls from the Slytherin table) over where this was leading. Snape never complimented some one unless it was in earnest.

"I do not have an influence in the Ministry, but I see a great need for change within it. House elves are powerful creatures and I believe it is a shame to keep them enslaved and not allow them to develop their full potential. By stunting their growth and not giving them wands, we are loosing what could be a great force and powerful ally against Lord Voldemort. We drive away nonhuman magical creatures, thinking we humans are the only ones capable of using the magic we are endowed with, and them expect them to side with us against our petty wars. Is it such a shock that the majority of magical creatures in existence will have nothing to do with our struggle? The time has come for that to change, and I will not rest until it has been done."

"That was admirable, Severus. I'm very proud of you," Dumbledore whispered into Snape's ear after he sat back down.

"Headmaster," he acknowledged with a curt nod.

There was a ringing silence in the hall. Many students were no doubt wondering where Snape's speech had suddenly come from. Neville didn't grant him any more credit than the slimy git was worth. The struggle with his children's ancestry had opened his eyes to the treatment of nonhuman creatures. There had even been inquiries into confiscating their wands before Arthur Weasley had become Minister and quickly put a stop to such nonsense. Nevertheless, he had just declared himself against what had been a policy for hundreds, even thousands, of years. The Slytherin table wasn't the only one who was bewildered at the controversy. Even Neville grandmother was waving her hat furiously in front of her face as if she might faint or else give Professor Snape a good talking to.

While the hall was still busy composing their thoughts, Professor Fortescue rose and began to speak. "I would like to award Harry Potter and Juniper Snape fifty points each for excessive bravery and cunning, and for saving each other's lives, for which I can think of no point value large enough to represent." He sat down without further explanation. Snape looked like he was about to throttle Fortescue - what kind of situation had he placed his daughter in that she had to have her life saved? Everyone in the audience, save June and Harry, pondered the meaning of this strange revelation.

The Minster of Magic stood and with a huge grin addressed the crowd quite easily. "I have a few announcements I'd like to make myself. . ."

------

June nervously approached the dungeons. Papa, Llian, and Neville were to meet her there after dinner. She knew what she had to say but she didn't want to say it. They were the people she loved most in this world - the only she had loved ever - and Harry and Florean wanted her to hurt them. She didn't want them to worry about her but Harry was right - it was hurting her to keep it from them. It was eating her alive.

Llian caught up with her pretty quickly. She hadn't eaten much during dinner, but he must have followed her out. "Hey sweetie," he said, giving her a brief hug. "Why did you want to see us?"

"We have to talk," she said shortly.

"About what? Papa's already told you that you can't take any magical growing potions - you're just going to have to be short your whole life." He stopped short, seeing how pale and drawn her face was. "It's that serious? June what is it?"

"I. . .I didn't want to tell you in the first place. Don't make me say it twice." She continued walking.

"Okay. . ." He held her hand as they walked. He wondered if she even knew she was trembling. Obviously not a Slytherin, he thought. A Slytherin would be able to hide what they were feeling, like Papa. How wrong he had been several months ago during the Sorting Hat fiasco.

Suddenly June stopped walking and started shuddering violently. "June? June!" Her eyes rolled back in her head and she sank to the floor. Llian cradled her head in his arms and tried to bring her back. Was she having a seizure? He didn't know what to do. He never knew what to do but wait for the unbearable few minutes she was out. Suddenly she stopped shaking but her eyes remained unfocused and distant.

"Llian?" she whispered. He squeezed her hand in acknowledgement. Anyone who ever thought they wanted to be a Divinations expert should have to go through what June always went through every time she had a vision, Llian thought. "I had. . .a vision. . ." She shuddered. "There are three pairs of wings. One shall be shredded, another shall fall into darkness, the third will lead them all from behind. Llian, I saw you. . .I don't remember. You will be made an offer you can't refuse. To accept is death. Papa will loose someone he cherishes, but gain another. Of the greatest wizards on the earth today, only one can remain. . ." Her eyes focused fully and she got back to her feet, shaking her head furiously. Llian tried to hold onto her arm, but she shook him off, determined to walk on her own. "I don't know what any of that means, so don't waste your breath asking," she snapped before he could say anything.

They heard footsteps behind them to find Neville and their Papa rounding the corner. "No, you guys go back," she pleaded. "Enjoy the feast. I'm just not hungry is all. Don't let me ruin your entire evening. Papa you should be celebrating! The hall applauded for you for almost ten minutes!" She attempted to appear cheerful but all three of them noticed her bottom lip was trembling.

Snape gathered her in his arms and sat down on a nearby bench with her. "What is disturbing you?" he soothed her. "You can tell us?" She shook her head, frustrated.

Neville sat next to Snape. "June, you've been hiding something this past weeks. Please talk with us. We're your family."

"We?" Snape snarled. Uoset at June's refusal to talk, he lashed out at Neville instead. "I don't remember adopting you."

"Yes, we," Neville retorted, his insecurity temporarily diminished into obscurity. "I'm going to marry your daughter someday so you'd better get used to it now!" Instead of being proud of him as he expected, June turned away from him and moaned, "Oh, Neville!" and burst into tears.

"June!" Llian exclaimed, shocked.

June jumped up and backed away from the concerned three who advanced on her. "I can't do it. I can't hurt you guys like this. Just forget the whole thing." She started inching down the hall.

"Forget what?" Neville demanded. "You haven't told us anything to forget!"

"Forget it!" she screamed. Whirling around, she sprinted down the corridor and out of sight.

(A/N: Ok, June was supposed to 'fess up in this chap, but she got a bit stubborn and I thought it dangerous for her mental health to push her. Maybe next chapter. Does anyone realize around what subjects June becomes "weird" during? Hint: what is my favorite subject to write about?)


	31. Secrets

31.Secrets 

Harry was surprised when Hermione suddenly appeared before him in the hallway still in her pajamas and slippers, her frizzy hair sticking up as if she had been electrocuted, with Ron right behind her looking similarly bedazzled. He had taken his walk before breakfast on Saturday morning precisely because no body else would be awake. He had learned that the professors left their posts as impromptu guards at sun up. There was plenty for him to brood about - June had been in a frantic kind of energy since the beginning of November, and he was wondering how long she would be able to keep it up before she wore herself out. She was having visions and spewing predictions left and right. Harry knew that she didn't sleep well at night - he sometimes entered her dreams. There wasn't anything he could do really - he couldn't just march down to the dungeons and tell Snape. That was June's responsibility. Still, he was very disappointed that she had backed out of telling them half a month ago.

Hermione and Ron both knew that Harry was preoccupied, but they thankfully left him alone. They didn't even think of tattling on him for roaming the halls in the early morning when all students had been expressively forbidden from doing so. Yet here they were now, running towards him full speed. They skidded to a halt before him and started talking at once.

Hermione gulped in air, still out of breath as she tried to explain. "Crookshanks came into my room this morning-"

"We followed that stupid cat of hers-"

"You know he's been practically missing since the beginning of school-"

"Right down to the corridor on the third floor-"

"Worried sick, but you know how cats are-"

"You'll never believe it, but-"

Harry held up his hands. "Stop! I can't understand a word you two are saying! Start at the beginning."

Hermione explained, "Crookshanks came into my room this morning and woke me and June up. He started for the door, looking behind at me, expecting me to follow him. I thought maybe he had caught a mouse or something he wanted to show me, but he went straight to the common room entrance-"

"She snuck into my room and woke me up-"

"And Neville too-"

"I borrowed your cloak and we followed-"

"You won't believe what's on the third floor corridor!" Hermione interrupted. "Come and see!" Hermione grabbed his left sleeve, Ron his right, and together the three sprinted down the hall and down two flights of stairs. They entered a corridor close to the one they had walked down their first year to find Hagrid's enormous dog, Fluffy. Hermione and Ron stopped beside a statue of Grindewald the Great, a large, muscular man with a shaved head and hard eyes. June was leaning against the statue with a huge smile on her face. Harry was about to ask what was going on when Fred poked his head out from behind the statue, grinning from ear to ear. "Come on, Harry, come take a look!" Harry walked around the statue and brushed past Neville and George to see what all the fuss was. Crookshanks was walking in circles around a bundle on the floor, purring loudly. Harry knelt besides it and found Miss Norris looking back at him. There were five tiny moving bundles of fur that were attempting to climb around her. They were different colors: some gray and white, others ginger, even one that was auburn looking. "Crookshanks is a daddy!" Hermione exclaimed happily. The seven Gryffindors crowded around the small kittens and cooed as if they had never seen a cat before. None of them could remember how much they had previously hated Mrs. Norris, only how adorable her litter was.

"They're so small!" June sighed, kneading Mrs. Norris' head with her finger. "Oh, look - this one is shivering," she said, pointing to one who looked to be the runt of the litter. She pulled an edge up of the blanket someone had brought to wrap Mrs. Norris in and shoved the kitten under a fold.

"How did Mrs. Norris manage to keep it secret from Filch?" Hermione wondered out loud.

"How do you know it was secret?" Ron asked.

"Well, he obviously wouldn't have let her out to have kittens in the middle of the hallway if he knew she was pregnant. I'm supposing she hid from him, just like Crookshanks hid from me."

"Somebody ought to go get Filch," suggested Neville.

"Are you crazy?" George asked. "Let's just go up to Filch and say 'Guess what, but we were wandering out of bed early in the morning when we weren't supposed to, so if you please, don't give us any detentions'."

"Well, we have a pretty good excuse," Hermione said, unable to believe that a Hogwarts staff member would be unwilling to be fair.

"And what would that be?" a voice sneered behind them.

They all poked their heads out to see Filch standing in front of the statue. June, who was shorter than the Weasley twins, leaned over too far and fell into them. They untangled themselves under Filch's slitted eyes. "My, my - seven icky little Gryffindors out of bed less than a month after the Headmaster himself announced the new restrictions. This will make a record, it will." He rubbed his hands together gleefully. "Gryffindor will be in last place by the time I'm done with you children! Now, what are you doing behind this statue - and don't bother lying or I'll double the points I'm taking from you!"

"Uh, sir - maybe you should look for yourself," Hermione suggested. As this seemed like the best idea, they cleared a path for Filch, who suspiciously squeezed through to see what was behind the statue.

"Mrs. Norris!" he positively squealed, dropping to his knees. "Oh, my little sweet, my baby! Where have you been? What-" He moved the blanket to see the five furballs. "Kittens! Mrs. Norris you had kittens and you didn't even tell me!" Then Filch saw Crookshanks rubbing against his knees and stood to face the students surrounding him, deathly quiet. "Whose cat is this?"

Hermione gulped before answering, "He's my cat."

Filch looked at Hermione silently. Harry inched his hand towards his wand incase the man became violent. Suddenly Filch hugged Hermione, picking her feet up off the ground, and twirled her around in a circle joyfully. "Ouch!" she howled when her ankle hit the stone statue.

"We're parents!" Filch cried. He held onto Hermione's arm as they both bent sat on the floor together and compared the kittens to their parents. "Oh, look, this little baby has your cat's nose!" he gushed. They cuddled the five kittens, talking in simpering baby-talk, until the six remaining students thought they were going to be sick. "But what do we do with them?" Filch asked suddenly. "I can't keep six cats!"

"I'm sure some of the students wouldn't mind taking them. Cats are becoming quite popular as familiars," Hermione answered. The others were doubtful: Crookshanks had a horrible temper and didn't get along with many people, a trait his kittens could inherit, and Mrs. Norris was notoriously hated by every student who had ever attended Hogwarts.

"I'll take one!" June volunteered. "Oliver loves cats!"

"Loves to eat them," Neville muttered, remembering how the little boggart delighted in tormenting Eliza's cat, Pattie.

"This will be so much fun! I mean, it won't be a dog or anything" --the cat lovers, Filch and Hermione, winced-- "but it can sleep on my bed and we can play together, and when it grows up-" She stopped suddenly, her mouth hanging open, eyes suddenly unfocused in thought. Neville reached over and hugged her to his chest. Harry shook his head and looked away. He knows, Neville thought suddenly, whatever is it that's wrong with June, Harry knows but he still won't tell me. June giggled nervously and said, "I'm sorry. I was just thinking. . .maybe I shouldn't take a kitten after all. No, I don't think it'd be a good idea." She blushed at the people who were staring at her, wondering at her strange behavior. "I wouldn't be able to take care of it."

Footsteps started down the halls towards where they stood behind the statue, from the sound of it a group of students. Fred jumped out and shouted, "Hey, anybody want some kittens? They're just newly born, but when they get a little older they're going to need a home. Come see!" he urged. The Gryffindors moved out the way so a small knot of Hufflepuffs could see the kittens. Eliza and Llian were among them.

"My cat's too territorial - it'd tear these poor things in half," Eliza explained. "They're cute though."

"They're adorable," agreed Llian. "But I don't think I'm really all for cats. You know, you guys should ask the teachers, too. In fact, I think I should give one to Papa!"

"What, to Professor Snape? He'd probably poison it!" Ron said indignantly. Snape's speech at the beginning of November, which was as close as the man would ever get to baring his soul to a crowd, didn't do anything to alter his behavior to students in class, especially to Neville. Ron had to admit though that Neville had been baiting Snape ever since the Halloween feast, becoming almost as nasty as the Potions Master himself.

But Filch seemed quite taken with the idea. Grinning wickedly, he said, "I might consider giving Severus one. I just might do that. . ."

Hannah instantly fell in love with the kittens. "Sir, if you need to give any of them away, I'll gladly take one," she gushed. "They're so tiny! How do you take care of newborn kittens?"

"I don't know," admitted Filch. "Found Mrs. Norris on my doorstep, I did, almost twenty years ago. She was already half-way grown by then."

"What?" exclaimed Eliza. "But cats don't live that long!"

Filch gave the young Hufflepuff a meaningful glance and said, "Mrs. Norris is no ordinary cat!"

Another group of students came through, this time Ravenclaws, Cho and Rachel among them, whispering together as they rounded the corner. Fred and George took it as their duty to advertise the kittens. Neville took the opportunity to disengage June from the crowd. They walked a short way in silence before Neville spoke, "What's all this about?"

"I don't know what you're talking about," she answered nonchalantly.

"You keep on becoming upset. You do weird things, act funny. You've been a bundle of nerves for a month."

"What do you know about how I act?" she demanded. "You've only known me for less than three months."

"I know you, June," he said softly. "I just do."

"You're not my psychoanalyst!" she snapped. "I just can't talk to you. It upsets me too much."

"What about it upsets you?"

"That. . .I'll hurt you guys. That it's all the best, because the world will be better without me."

"What would hurt us?"

"The prophecy."

"What about it will hurt us?"

"You'll-" She stopped, suddenly realizing what he had been doing. "You, you jerk!" she sputtered. "I told you I didn't want to talk about it. I'll just tell you that the world will be better without me and then you'll argue that I'm just being a depressed lunatic." Her feet were automatically carrying her towards the dungeon, towards Snape.

"Hey!" a voice said from behind them. It was Harry; his face looked grave. Llian was following him. "Enough is enough June. We're going to Snape now, and either you're going to tell them or I'll make him give you Veritserum. One way or the other." Llian looked shocked, but didn't say anything.

June frowned. "Papa wouldn't do that? Would he?" Would he hurt his own children? But what if he thought he was hurting them for the best? June suddenly wasn't so sure anymore. She turned and tried to dart between Llian and Neville but they blocked her way. "Let's go," Harry commanded, taking the lead. Neville and Llian each taking an arm, they walked her to dungeons, having to pull her more and more the closer she came. When they reached Snape's door, she grabbed hold of the door frame and they were forced to pry her fingers off. "Let go of me!"

"Stop being such a baby!" Harry ordered. "This is becoming ridiculous. Why does everything you do have to be so melodramatic?" June bent her knees in attempt to stop them from dragging her inside. Snape materialized in the doorway, glaring at the three of them.

"What is going on here?" he demanded. "It's barely time for breakfast. What do you three think you're doing to June?"

"She came to talk with you," Harry said. "She's going talk with all of us."

June shook them off and walked inside into Snape's private quarters, sitting down on the couch in front of the fire. "Fine, but I at least get breakfast." Harry stood silently by the door as the rest sat down around her in silence. After waiting for several minutes she said, "I don't want your pity. I don't want you to feel sorry for me. I've been having a lot of visions lately and sometimes they're really hard to deal with. But. . .I've been especially busy with them lately because I have to finish interpreting them soon."

"Before the final battle?" Llian asked.

She hesitated before answering. "Yes. . .in a way. I've been trying to finish a lot of things - my stories, my novella. I usually worked when the mood struck me, but now I have a deadline. You see, one lesson Florean had us look purposely into the future. Usually we just wait for a dream or something, but he wanted us to try Seeing directly." She slumped her shoulders.

"And it didn't work?" Neville asked. Sometimes June found small incidences of failure to be more traumatic than they really were. From the sound of it, Neville guessed she had become suicidal. It would explain her preoccupation with death, her odd behavior whenever anything about her future was concerned.

She laughed. "No, it worked magnificently. It worked only too well. I Saw even better than Florean. It's what I saw. We only looked a year into the future - the closer to the current time, the easier it was supposed to be. But I couldn't find myself."

"I thought you said it worked?" Llian asked. Was she just being sarcastic as usual?

"I wasn't there. I looked two years forward, and three years. Florean and Harry looked too and we all had the same results." She looked around at their blank faces. "Don't you understand? I wasn't there! Not at all! I won't be here next year!"

"But, where are you -" Llian started, and then stopped himself. "You don't mean?. . ."

"No," Snape breathed. "Oh, Merlin no."

"You're going to die?" Neville asked, his voice incredibly small.

"That's the gist of it," she snapped.

"June," Llian whispered. "June. . .you can't."

"Life and death is not a democracy," she said angrily.

"Stop it, June," warned Harry. "You're going to deal with this, not make jokes about it and avoid it."

Neville was thunderstruck. He found it odd that he felt no emotion. His mind was completely empty. He wondered where all the tears streaming down Snape's face were coming from. June was going to die. It was to be expected. Lots of people were going to die. Why did it matter that one more girl would die too? Maybe he misunderstood her, maybe she didn't really See that. Maybe she was joking - some kind of sadistic, cruel joke. Maybe time was really flowing backwards; the world was spinning. Maybe none of this was real - nor had it ever been real.

Snape stood and walked out of the room, closing the door softly behind them. The click of the lock was audible in the silence of the room. "Come on, June," Harry said. "We have to talk with Florean." She obediently followed him out of the room, leaving Llian and Neville alone on the couch. They avoided each other's eyes, wondering who would speak first, who would leave first, who would sob first. Snape won. They both jumped when they heard an enormous crash followed by an inhuman wail from Snape's bedroom. Several more crashes sounded like furniture, pictures, and mirrors being thrown around the room. The loud bangs stopped as quickly as they started and all they heard after that was Snape's cries. Llian walked over the bedroom door and said, "Alohamora." Neville jumped up and followed him in.

The room looked like it had just survived a hurricane. The desk by the window was on its side, and chair legs and broken drawers flung recklessly covering the floor, as well as an abundance of glass splinters. "Papa?" Llian whispered. Snape was standing by the far corner, staring in bewilderment at the wall. Llian gingerly made his way across the room and touched his back. Snape jumped. He turned to look at Llian, his face a caricature of agony. "Llian," he whispered. They hugged each other fiercely, as if they were in the middle of a hurricane themselves and could only survive by clinging to the body beside them. Snape looked at Neville, who stood there watching them. Neville found himself drawn closer by something in Snape's fathomless eyes. Neville took a step and then another, and then he was beside them and Snape hugged them both, his links to June, his remaining children.

- - - - - - - - - - - - -

The Volari flew right into their spells, never suspecting a thing. They fell like stones, their wings shredded instantly by the line of spells the Death Eaters had laid for them. Like fish swimming into a net. Very few of them died from the fall - the Volari could fall from great distances without being harmed. Snape was overseeing the project, making sure their participation with the British Ministry was brought to a sudden end. He watched as the Volari were tortured, raped, literally ripped apart by the dark magic his colleagues wielded. He watched, but did nothing.

It was almost dawn by the time they were killing off the few remaining Volari, most of them women that Lucius had been playing with. Their screams cut through his head and became imbedded in his brain. Finally, it was over - they were all dead. Having done his duty, Severus departed company with the others and disapparated to the cliff overlooking the valley. From there he watched the green skull slowly rise in the sky, a smile playing on his lips. Go on, Dark Lord, rule the world. It's not my world anymore. I wash my hands of it.

Voldemort hadn't told them their mission until they gathered early that evening. There had been no time to reach Dumbledore before leaving. He turned and walked into the forest, brushing branches out of his eyes furiously. He had trained himself a long time ago to not feel anything; he was surprised to find tears running down his cheeks now. How ironic that killing innocent people could actually be the right thing to do; the Death Eaters were ruthless torturers. He stopped in a clearing, waiting for his eyes to adjust from the familiar darkness to the light spreading across the sky overhead. Suddenly, his senses sharpened - there was a figure sitting on a rock in the middle of the clearing. He circled it slowly. It was a girl, a teenager. It's blood smelt oddly familiar. She looked up at him, unafraid. Her carmine eyes were old and weary, slightly unfocused. It was a Volari.

Why hadn't she been with the others? Why was she here alone? He still had his mask on - didn't she know what he was? The Death Mark far away was still visible through the trees. "They're all dead, aren't they?" she whispered. He nodded silently. "I dreamt they would die. I saw their deaths. It was horrible." She said this emotionlessly, as if someone had directed her to read lines off a script. "I let them die." Her eyes focused on him, and her irises faded away into a dark charcoal. Where had he seen eyes similar to hers, the way they became unfocused as if they were seeing a different world? Lily's. The girl must be a Seer - her eyes looked exactly like Lily's had during a vision. "If they had lived we would have gone to Britain, and my son would never be born. If I had gone, I would have been killed in two years, leaving Voldemort to rule the world in fifteen years. Why is it that my life is more important? Why should they die so that I could live?"

She looked down at her hands, pale and small. Severus felt an overwhelming urge to kill her. He wanted to strangle her, kill her, make her beg for mercy. He grabbed her hair and forced her to look up at him. "Give me one good reason not to murder you," he whispered.

"Because you won't," she said. Just like Lily. She was so beautiful and alone; he wanted to hurt her, to smash her head in. He shook with anger and grief. "You love me. Or you will, someday, when I come with my son. When we meet again."

He was suddenly weary. "What do you want?"

She unbuttoned her tunic. "Come to me," she whispered. "No one should die a virgin."

"No, no," he answered. But he came closer and sat next to her all the same. It was so messed up, he knew, but he was nineteen, and the teenage hormones still clouded his thoughts no matter how logical he pretended to be. He stroked her neck with the tip of his thumb. I will bite her, he thought suddenly. I will bite her and she will be like me, and that will be that.

"You'll love me someday, and I'll love you back." She pushed her hair out of her face and for the first time her eyes focused fully on his face. "Now." It was less a direction than a dictation.

And so it was.

- - - - - - - - - - - - -

Snape looked down at the two boys sitting by his side. Neither one of them looked at him. His shattered furniture lay around them like pedestals, testimonies of his inhuman strength. "You never should have been born," he said to Llian.

"Papa, we've already talked about this-"

"No we haven't. Your mother lied to you. She was never at the Death Eater's attack. I found her later in the woods. I even wanted to kill her. I wanted her to die." Llian was silent. "Do you understand what I'm saying?"

Llian shook his head. "You're not like that now." The boy was so naïve.

"I murdered my entire family when I was sixteen. I was a Death Eater. I tortured more people in those few years than you've ever met in your entire lifetime. Your mother lied to you - I don't know why. She knew that the group she was with would die, but she let them. She said if she had continued to Britain, you wouldn't have been born. She let all those people die so you could live."

"Me? But June's the one who's Haran. Don't you mean my mother wanted June to live?"

Snape paused. "Llian. . .I'm beginning to think that June. . .is your mother."

(A/N: What an excellent place to end! Surprised? Wishing my death? Review!)


	32. Secrets II

32.Secrets, Part II 

If Neville and Snape had expected Llian to be hysterical, to start throwing things as his father did and wail and beat his chest, they would have been disappointed. Llian calmly lifted an eyebrow and said, "What makes you think so?"

"It started when I first saw her; it seemed almost uncanny the way she looked exactly the same as your mother."

"But I thought she looked a lot like you, too," interrupted Neville. "I mean, you both have black hair."

"Ava had black hair." The two boys were silent. "She also had carmine eyes, but I saw them turn charcoal after a vision had run its course."

"How long have you known?" Llian whispered. There was no doubt in his mind that his father would lie to him about something this serious. Naïve, perhaps, but as impossible as it seemed, he knew that Snape would never accept anything without a very convincing explanation.

"I suspected that something was different with June when I had a discussion with Albus after the attack this summer while June was still recuperating in the hospital. In my spare time over the fifteen years since I'd met Ava, I had done a miniscule amount of research on the Volari. Albus happens to have an in-depth knowledge of them, their habits, customs, powers - just as he does with most magical creatures. The particular curse that June invoked last July could only have been formed by a Volari. Someone with human blood, like yourself, would be blocked from it - your human blood with conflict with it. The depth of power indicated that there was either extremely little, or no human blood conflicting with it. At the time we had no other explanation for it but that she must have inherited more from her mother than from myself."

"Other random things just added to the suspicion. June ended up being a Haran, just like Ava, a Seer, a prolific writer. . .the list goes on. The way that the Dementors affected her at the first Sorting Ceremony in September was closer to the way they affect Volari than half-Volari. When I talked with Ava, fifteen years ago, she said something about having a son - she was a Seer that knew her son would be born only if events happened a certain way, yet she Saw nothing about a daughter. . ."

"And she should have because June's more powerful than me," Llian finished for him. "You don't have to hide from me what's been right in front of my face for years."

Neville spoke. "Okay, so there's tons of similarities between June and Ava - they look and act alike - but where's your proof? How do you know that the impossible is real? Are you telling me June is really a thirty-year-old woman?"

"No, she is nothing more than she seems, in that regard. When Dumbledore and I first approached the possibility, we had only coincidences. One such coincidence was a particular potion that was ordered from the Potions Laboratory I worked at in Knockturn Alley - an order coming from Canberra, Australia. It asked for a particularly rare potion which de-ages the drinker, but with less than normal results. You see, the mind of the person drinking also de-ages. If someone drinks a potion made for two years, they will wake up being physically two years younger, and thinking that it is still two years ago because their brain has literally de-aged with them. It effectively brings the drinker back in time, but only themselves, not the world around them. It is completely permanent - the memories, how the mind of the person formed is totally wiped out as the person de-ages. This order, as I was saying, was made about a year after I'd, er, met Ava, but it was asked to be set for fifteen years."

Llian blew out a long whistle. "So you think June, er, Ava took this? It would have made her a baby, like me, and we'd grow up together the same age. And that's why she thinks she's my sister?"

"Well, she practically is your sister, in everything but blood, and even there she's very close. I'm not surprised she made other arrangements for your upbringing, as poor as they were. She had told me that she would be a horrible mother - I can't blame her, she was still practically a child herself."

"But why would anyone want to take this potion in the first place?" Neville demanded. "Why would someone want to be years younger when you'd loose all memories and everything that makes you you?"

"That's precisely why this potion is used. Its most frequent use is for severely depressed patients who have become suicidal. Sometimes if all other therapies or potions prove ineffective the patient will take a potion to bring them back to a relatively stable portion of their lives. I have a feeling this is one of the reasons Ava took such a drastic course of action. We already know that June is prone to becoming depressed. I don't know if she's ever been suicidal-"

"She has," Llian said shortly. "She was nine the first time she tried to kill herself." At his father's bulging eyes he explained, "She tried to jump off a skyscraper, but it didn't work. That was how she discovered she had wings, and that she wasn't human." Neville nodded. June had told him. "But anyone could have ordered that potion - anyone in the world."

"I took the liberty to make several inquiries over the school year. The potion was ordered by a little shop in Canberra that stocked only common potions - it was a smaller, more legal branch of the company I worked for on Knockturn. The woman who worked there happens to be a friend of mine. I owled her and asked her about the potion. Understandably, I knew it would be hard for her to remember one particular potion that had been ordered almost fifteen years ago, but she remembered every detail of the transaction because it was one of the strangest that had ever taken place. A young lady who couldn't have left her teens yet came into the shop with a young baby to order that potion. The Potions Mistress testified that the picture of June I sent to her was the same girl that came in. The shop also provided other services of which Ava made use. She had a death certificate made out for herself, and two new birth certificates for twins. She said she remembered the girl so clearly because of how miserable she looked. The Potions Mistress knew exactly what this girl was doing and encouraged it. She even helped them by overseeing the administering of the potion and bringing them both to Muggle orphanages. The Volari never rejected Ava - she ran away from them, the position of Haran being so terrible. The Haran was less a position of power than one of sacrifice - the Haran was to live only for the good of the community. It had burned her out so completely that at fifteen she had nothing left to live for. She specified a Muggle orphanage because she wanted to avoid notifying the wizarding world of who she was."

"So it is true," Neville whispered.

"That explains why she has no memory of it," Llian agreed. "It was a rather desperate act." He paused before continuing. "But is her life any better now? Maybe she wanted to start over with a clean slate. But she's still miserable."

"She can't change who she is," Snape said gently.

"Should we tell her?" Neville asked suddenly.

Snape slowly shook her head. "I don't think that would be a good idea. She already has the entire world of one time on her shoulders - I wouldn't want to add to it; she would collapse under it's weight."

"But why doesn't she know?" Llian asked.

"Because the potions reduced her mind and body to the state it had been shortly after her birth-"

"No, I mean - she's a Seer, wouldn't she know?"

"There are many different kinds of Seers," Neville explained. "Professor Fortescue sees mainly the past. Harry can see a bit of the future, but mostly he sees the present - what's happening at the time and what's going on inside people's minds now. June sees the future. The only time I know of that she's ever Seen the past was when she latched onto. . .onto somebody's dreams." He had almost spilled what June had revealed about Snape's past by decided in retrospect it would be a poor decision. "Are you absolutely sure that June is the same girl who went into that shop?" He didn't want it to be true.

"Positive. I took a sample of June's blood to test if any potions could be administered during the coma. I also used a bit to test if we were related."

"You mean like DNA testing?" Llian asked, impressed.

Snape looked confused. "Um. . .No, I mean I tested it to see if June and myself were related. We are not. Therefore I cannot be her father."

"Why did she name herself June?" Llian wondered. "Does her name mean anything?"

"I think she was born in June, the first time around. I have a feeling she purposely left clues so that she would discover her past - her journals, for instance, which she left in storage at the orphanage," Snape guessed.

"So she's not related to you at all?" Neville asked, his face hopeful. "Thank Merlin!"

"I don't see anything wrong with being related to Professor Snape," Llian said haughtily.

"You wouldn't - you're Llian," Neville explained.

------

June and Neville attempted to sit together during Potions, but Snape quickly separated them. Pairing June and Harry together still seemed superstitious, so June instead worked with Hermione. They were almost done with the memory and thinking potions, today being one of the last. They were learning a particularly useful potion called the Imagear which enhanced problem solving abilities. Snape snidely remarked that many of the Gryffindors, Neville in particular, might find it necessary to take some in order to pass the O.W.L.S. Neville usually gritted his teeth and thought vicious thoughts when Snape insulted him in class, but knowing the man behind the sneer made his taunts more bearable. Not that he'd ever forgive Snape, even if the man got down on his hands and knees and begged for forgiveness. Admitting that one's potion was adequate, Neville found, was entirely different from admitting that one was a human being. His potion, which was supposed to be a bright yellow, was churning a deep velvet.

"Now, it is time to test our potions," Snape announced. "I have no doubt that half of the class" his eyes slid to the back where most of the Gryffindors were seated "will end up killing whoever drinks their potion, so we will use familiars for the purpose which they were intended." Neville nervously lowered Trevor beneath the table, hoping to spare his toad from a surely gruesome and needless death. He didn't have to test his potions to know that they sucked. "Perhaps Longbottom would like to demonstrate how competent he is at brewing the Imagear?"

Neville glared at Snape as he slowly brought Trevor and his cauldron of swirling purple liquid to the front. At least he was ignoring Hermione for today. Because of her behavior the day June's potion exploded, he was certain that she was somehow involved, but had no way to prove it. Neville didn't appreciate being a scapegoat, however, for Snape's own personal emotional problems. Between June and Snape, it was a miracle that Llian was even born with a properly functioning brain.

At the front of the class, Snape made quite a demonstration of looking into Neville's cauldron with a surprised look on his face, as if he couldn't figure out what was supposed to be inside of it. The Slytherins provided accompaniment with their not-so-quiet snickers. Snape took an eyedrop and forced some liquid down Trevor's throat. Neville watched in horror as Trevor suddenly started bouncing on one leg and flinging both arms out in an extremely un-toad-like manner. The class erupted into laughter at Trevor's antics while Neville glowered. 'Would you think it was so funny if you were the one dancing after I put you under the Cruciatus?' he thought silently. Snape quickly whipped up a potion to counter the abysmal one Neville had made and return the toad to normal. Neville watched in amazement as Snape's hand flew across the table, gathering ingredient and pouring them into the cauldron as if devoid of conscious effort. The man was barely watching what he was doing!

"I hope that you have all learned something from today's little escapade," Snape said afterwards, the traditional sneer on his face. "It's not every day that a completely new potion is discovered that has absolutely no relevance to the one we are studying." Neville hid his face in shame as Seamus patted him reassuringly on the back. One more year, he thought, just one more year - please God let it be next year as quickly as possible. As he was walking out of the potions lab the thought struck him so suddenly that his legs almost collapsed - June wouldn't be here next year.

------

Neville was grumpy throughout lunch.

"It warn't that bad," Seamus tried to comfort him. "At least Trevor is okay."

Neville picked up Trevor off the floor and put him on the table. "Do you think he's looking a little discolored?" Neville asked nervously. Unfortunately Draco choose that exact moment to pass by, and snidely remarked, "Looks a little purple to me, if you get my drift." Neville fumed silently while his fellow Gryffindors told the Slytherin off. He was almost blind with rage, mostly at himself and at the idiot of a Potions Master Hogwarts had, but not so blind that he saw didn't see Draco discretely drop a note into Hermione's lap. While the others were muttering foul names at Draco's back as he walked back to his table, Neville watched with fascination out of the corner of his eye as Hermione slipped the note into her pocket, a slight blush on her face. What was going on? He hoped it wasn't what he thought it was - it so he was going to be sick for sure! Draco didn't deserve anyone with intelligence and common sense as his significant other; Pansy, who lacked any thoughts shallower than her perfect skin, was the ideal match for him. He decided to ask Hermione in private about it, but she slipped away before lunch was over and after his worries about charms he forgot completely about it.

------

"I just can't accept you!" Hermione snarled. "Leave me alone! Stay away!" She slapped his hand every time he tried to bring it closer to her waist. "I should have known it was a waste of time to try talking with you. Boys! Take your hormones and go somewhere else! What was that letter about this being urgent? You are such an idiot!"

Draco shrugged nonchalantly. "Why should I care what you think?" He turned to walk away but stopped. His casual swagger became grieved. "Listen - I'm not supposed to like you. Mudbloods are supposed to have bad blood, inferior-like; they're not supposed to be smart like you. But you, you're like some kind of freak of nature - you're smart and witty and have a biting sense of humor, and you're even good in potions. You're not supposed to be any of those, but you are, and I'm not supposed to like you - but I do."

"You sure know how to woo a girl," she answered coldly. "My heart goes all aflutter every time you call me a freak of nature. And when you call me a Mudblood my knees tremble and I feel so weak I might swoon. How romantic."

"Don't you care about me at all?" he whispered, his eyes glinting wildly in the midday sunlight. Hermione felt herself shiver in his intense gaze. They were taking a risk meeting during the day in the open like this, but most students were still at lunch.

"I've always had a strict policy of not dating anyone with an I.Q. more than 45 points below mine."

He looked confused, the intelligence quota being a Muggle invention. Magical persons simply used a charm that showed intelligence by color. It was obvious though that what ever she had said was an insult. He shook his head. "I don't know what I ever saw in you."

"Ha! What did I ever see in you? You're nothing, you slimy, sadistic, sneaky-"

"I don't blame you for falling in love with me." She was so furious that Draco couldn't help but enjoy himself goading her on. "What's not to love? I'm sweet, charming, sexy-"

Hermione guffawed, "-and completely worthless; did I mention shady?"

"Well you always did fall for the shady characters."

"What?"

"Lockhart. . .Krum. . ."

"You leave Krum out of this!"

"Whatever happened to Krum anyway? Last year you two looked like you were going to get married."

"That's absurd, and it's none of your damn business!"

"My, my - such language from a decent young witch like yourself."

"Stop trying to sound like your father."

They stared at each other in silence. He grinned and reached out an arm. She tried to hide her shivers as he stoked her shoulder, but she couldn't hide from him the goosebumps that broke out on her skin. He glanced casually over her shoulder and his eyes widened in shock. Suddenly he slammed her against the stone wall and pressed himself against her. His lips bit into hers as he started to kiss her violently, ripping the top buttons off her shirt. "This is the closest you'll ever get to a Pureblood you filthy little Mudblood," he said loudly, most over the top of Hermione's head than to her.

She struggled to regain the breath that had been knocked out of her. She tried to pry his fingers off of her arm enough to dig in her pocket but her numb fingers refused to close around her wand. Her mind was swirling with confusion and betrayal. A figure pushed Malfoy out of the way. It was Goyle, with Crabbe right behind him.

"What's going on Malfoy?" he demanded.

"Nothing gentlemen. Just having a bit of innocent fun. Only thing these vile creatures are good for really, and even then still not very good." He turned and smiled maliciously.

Crabbe grabbed Hermione's arm before she could reach her wand. "Let go of me!" she cried.

"Unhand me you foul beast!" Malfoy mimicked in a sing-song falsetto. He pushed Crabbe out of the way, purposely leaving Hermione's wand hand free again. "I found her first!" he declared to the two larger boys.

"Don't we get to play too?" Goyle said teasingly. Malfoy turned his head away from his two friends towards Hermione for a second - he looked like he was going to be sick. Hermione waited for them to make the first move. They were both incredibly thick, but Draco had warned her that they had learned loads of Dark Magic over the summer and were stupid enough to try to use it. They might even accidentally hurt her in the process. She was confident about her own powers, but she had learned to be on guard against brute force - she remembered only too well the dueling club her second year where Millicent had gotten her in a headlock despite Hermione's far superior magical abilities. But now she was outnumbered.

Suddenly her fear dissipated. She wasn't outnumbered - she had Draco. As if he were any good. She knew he had to play along for show, but she knew also that he would never allow them to seriously harm her. Likely though he would help her in some kind of sneaky, underhanded way of which she would disapprove.

Draco! That was it! If Draco fell they would stay with him, and he wouldn't use his Dark Magic against her. Would he? She pushed off against the wall and hurled herself into Draco's chest. He tripped and fell, his arm waving in thin air wildly. Hermione was about to curse him when she saw a slash of black race towards her. She ducked just in time and it sliced into the pillar behind her, leaving a neck high line blackened line across the stone.

Draco pulled out his wand and jumped in front of Hermione. "Stop!" he shouted. Crabbe and Goyle stared at him, their apelike faces blank.

"What do you think you're doing Malfoy?" Goyle snarled.

"Draco!"

"What?"

"I said my name is Draco," he answered slowly, as if explaining to a five-year-old. "And what I'm doing, Greg and Vinnie, is saving your pathetic asses! Didn't you ever read Hogwarts A History? Can you even read? This entire school is laced with anti-Dark Magic wards - you'll set off the whole place if you're not careful. Why else do you think the Master is careful to plan before attacking the school?" Hermione let out the breath she had been holding, hoping fervently that that day would never come. At first she had thought that Draco's cover would be blown. He was quick enough to hold off Crabbe and Goyle, the two human bludgers, but against the entire Slytherin house he would quickly have been turned into mincemeat.

Crabbe and Goyle shuffled nervously. "We weren't thinking, I guess," Crabbe admitted.

"Does it really say that in Hogwarts A History?" Goyle demanded of Hermione.

Hermione nodded and launched into a convincing lecture describing the defense mechanisms, most of them grisly, which would protect the castle against Dark Magic. It was all a lie, of course, but they didn't really need to know that. Only powerful Dark Magic would set off the wards, not the pathetic attempts of two walking doorknobs. Hermione thought she might hug Draco, but then remembered that this whole mess was his fault in the first place. She supposed they would have to find a different place to meet next time. Next time? She realized she was already committed to hearing what Draco had to say, although he took an unusually long time to come around to say it.

The two Slytherins paled at Hermione's mostly fabricated defense wards, especially at one she called the Castratto Line, snickering that they would miss the obvious joke. In truth though, the Dark and Light magics simply didn't work that way. They weren't opposing forces which could cancel each other out. In fact, as far as Hermione could tell there was little distinction at all: magic was simply magic. After making Hermione promise not to tell what had happened, where she pulled off a fantastic acting job of the lady in distress, they left quickly. Hermione watched the three backs disappear down the hall. Why did Draco have to be so damned difficult?

------

The fifth year boys dormitory awoke to a wail of agony the next morning. Bleary eyes were quickly wiped and heads shook as each boy looked around to find the source of the strange noise. It was Neville, crouched at the foot of his bed, where he had apparently been dressing for a morning run. He held something in his hands, at which he was gaping in horror.

"Calm down, mate," Ron said desperately, trying to pat his back. "What is it?"

Neville held up his hands for all the boys to see in the dim light. It was Trevor. "He's dead! He's dead! Snape poisoned Trevor, that bloody bastard! I'll kill him!"


	33. Birthday Party

33.Birthday Party 

The boy sat in a circular room filled with buzzing silver gadgets, staring morosely at the pictures overhead where the portraits of former Headmasters and Headmistresses slept with pointedly loud snores and snorts, occasionally opening an eye to stare at the grumpy teenager below them. 'I'm dead,' he thought to himself. 'I'm so dead, Gran's going to kill me, I'm going to be expelled from Hogwarts.' Neville decided he might as well have killed Snape outright for all the trouble he was in now. It was, after all, entirely the Potions Master's fault. If he had actually condescended to teach students like Neville instead of stalking around them and purposely cause them to drop their ingredients in fright, this would never had happened.

Neville jumped suddenly when he heard noise behind him, coming up the staircase towards the empty office. The door opened and Dumbledore entered, with Snape close behind him hissing some vitriolic diatribe in his ear. Snape, eying Neville with a slight sneer on his lips (must be some kind of permanent birth mark, that sneer), immediately stopped talking and contented himself with giving the boy before him 'looks of death'. Dumbledore calmly sat behind the desk and offered the chair next to Neville to Snape, who refused to sit but instead paced back and forth besides the Headmaster's desk. There was a thick silence as Dumbledore studied Neville, who was examining his shoes with the utmost interest.

"He will be expelled, of course?" Snape burst out, unable to contain his temper any longer. "It is plain that he is a danger not only to himself and his fellow students, but to the teachers as well!"

Dumbledore gave him a warning glance and said simply, "Please do not speak until I ask you to, Severus." Neville couldn't help let a small grin escape onto his lips. Put you right in your place, didn't he, Professor? But the grin disappeared as quickly as it had come when Dumbledore turned his penetrating gaze on him instead. "Neville," he said softly. "You have been accused of attacking a teacher, for incorrectly holding him responsible for the poisoning of your familiar despite the assurances of the medical staff. You went so far as to assault Professor Snape, (who is gifted beyond belief in antidotes and neutralizing potions of any kind, even 'experimental' ones like the one that unfortunately came out of your cauldron yesterday), even though I myself agreed with Rubeus and Poppy that your toad died of natural causes. I know that I cannot convince you otherwise, and although it grieves me to completely break apart the small understanding you two had reached, I must punish you for your actions."

Neville sank as far into his seat as was possible - he was still a big boy and it wasn't exactly easy to hide. "Gran will kill me," he muttered, "but he deserved it!" He pointed at Snape, who glared back with reciprocal hatred. "I wish I'd at least hurt you before you got me expelled! Not enough to kill my toad, is it? Why didn't you just poison me instead you-"

"That will be enough Mr. Longbottom," Dumbledore said quietly, causing Neville to stop immediately. "Contrary to popular belief" (the Headmaster gave Snape a significant look) "you are not going to be expelled." Neville let out the breath that he knew he had been holding and prepared himself for the big 'But'. "But, for your serious lack of respectable conduct, especially for your unnecessary violence in attacking your own Professor, you must be punished. These serious actions deserve serious consequences. I will deduct an additional fifty points for your lack of control; you will also have detention for a month."

"A month! Surely his punishment should be above that of a petty thief - we are talking about unrestricted violence here!" Snape argued. Neville thought it was pretty rich of him, Snape being the most violent person he had ever met in his entire life. Not to mention that Snape had already taken three hundred points off of Gryffindor for the attack alone, even though Neville had given him little more than a black eye and bloody nose. Well, it was true he did bruise a couple ribs and twist his ankle, but besides that Snape wasn't hurt in the least.

"And I happen to think that people who make a habit of poisoning an entire houseful of people shouldn't be allowed to teach Potions!" Neville shot back.

Snape whitened and visibly blanched. "You - you - how dare you!" he sputtered, beside himself with rage. How did this insolent boy know about that? The charges had been dropped, it shouldn't be on record anywhere, Snape thought wildly. 'I'll kill him, I'll positively kill him!'

Seeing the murder in the youngest professor's eyes, Dumbledore stepped quickly between the two before they tore each other apart. "That is enough! Severus, if you aren't careful I will be forced to treat you like you are acting and punish you like a schoolboy! Mr. Longbottom's punishment has already been decided and will be carried out without your supervision. You will not touch one hair on that boy's head no matter how much he spurs you on. I expect you, as an adult, to not be provoked by petty words. And you, Neville, will discontinue this goading of Professor Snape, as you know that he angers quickly. You know full well that the medical examination showed no trace of poisons. Now is not the time to bring old grievances back into play, especially when both of your tempers are already frayed. I forbid both of your from speaking to each other for two whole weeks. Severus you will not speak to him directly in class, and you Neville will no longer stand on your chair in the Great Hall and publicly accuse him of poisoning! I've had enough with this childish behavior - I want both of you to think long and hard about your relationship and apologize publicly, in the Great Hall, at the end of these two weeks. Am I understood?" Dumbledore talked quietly, but the office was silent except for his grave voice. Not wanting to anger him any more, both student and professor nodded silently.

It was going to be an extremely long two weeks.

------

There had been considerable difficulty in planning it, but in the end the Snape's birthday party went off extremely well. Professor Snape, Neville, and Llian knew that it wasn't actually June's birthday, but they celebrated hers along with Llian's all the same. The hard part had been, of course, getting Professor Snape and Neville into the same room. Even though they still weren't talking to each other, both were silently dreading the end of the two weeks when Dumbledore would publicly embarrass them both. The mere sight of each other was enough to set their teeth on edge. Neville had been all for having the party in the Gryffindor or Hufflepuff common room, but June wanted a private party, so her friend was forced once more to descend into the dungeons. They were surprised, upon entering, that Professor Snape had decorated his private quarters for the party - they would have thought that he would be above such things. Dumbledore was already there, sitting at the table with a colorful party hat on, talking quietly with Snape.

"Professor!" June squealed, hugging the old man fiercely, causing Oliver, who had been sitting on her shoulders, to jump off and instead sit in Professor Snape's unwilling lap like some kind of parody of a cat. "I didn't think you'd actually come!"

"Then why did you send me an invitation if you didn't want me to come?" he teased, his eyes twinkling merrily. Harry, Ron, and Hermione came in together, the latter two with considerable trepidation, never having entered Snape's private quarters before. Although the invitation had specified that presents weren't necessary (after all there was two of them and they didn't want all their friends to be so broke they couldn't afford Christmas presents next month), all three of them carried two presents. They set them on the rug in front of the fireplace where a small bundle was already gathering. "Wow!" June exclaimed when she saw the pile. "I've never had more than just a couple of birthday presents before! You guys must love me!" She was uncharacteristically giggly and cheerful, Neville thought. "Where's the cake papa?" she asked Professor Snape. Neville cringed. Maybe they should tell her the truth after all. Her 'father' and 'brother' agreed not to, but Neville knew that June was the kind of person that would want to know things like that anyway, despite that there was nothing she could do about it and the threat of the considerable stress the information would bring.

He glared at her. "I hid it from you, young lady, lest you eat it all before the party even starts and before you've eaten a balanced, nutritious meal." Yeah right, Neville thought. Like June ever ate anything that wasn't smothered in chocolate.

"Hey June," he called to her where she was poking her head in Professor's Snape's cabinets, trying to spy where he was hiding the treats. "I haven't heard you make any poetry lately. I miss it."

She blushed. "Don't be stupid - nobody misses my silly poems. And I've been kind of busy lately." She paused. She leaned forward and whispered conspiratorially, "You know how I can make spells, make things happen with my poetry?" He nodded. "Well, I've recently discovered that I can do the same thing with my lute!"

Neville wrinkled his brow. "You're kidding?"

"No, it's just like the same thing. I want something to happen, say I wanted to turn a robe I had purple. So I think about making it purple while I play, and I just make up what I play as I go along. I make a kind of. . .purple song."

"Purple song?"

"Don't make fun of me. That's the only way I can think to describe it. I just play and sometimes sing a song that turns things purple."

"How do you know that the song does that?"

"Because that's what I make up the song to do, stupid!"

"That's amazing!"

"I first noticed a long time ago, actually. Remember when I first got Oliver and he was so scared he would barely come near us?"

"Well, he went by you - he loved you instantly."

"No, he didn't. He was just as scared of me as he was of you. But remember I started humming to him as he came out of the closet." She paused for a second and started giggling. "Came out of the closet - get it!" Neville rolled his eyes. She had definitely eaten too many kit-kats. "Anyway, I started humming a calming song, and it made him less nervous so I could pet him."

Neville looked flabbergasted. "Well, I have noticed that sometimes you start humming for no reason, usually tunes I haven't heard before. I just thought it was one of those weird things, like how you spontaneously start spewing poetry."

"Now I know why! It's like spontaneous poetry, I like that - like spontaneous combustion, only funner!" She started giggling again. Neville watched her do a little dance-hop around the room, confirming his suspicions. It was definitely a good thing Snape had had the foresight to hide the chocolate. Just then, Llian and his small band of Hufflepuffs entered. Llian, definitely the more socialable of the 'twins' (Neville didn't know where he got it from as both June and Snape were considerably withdrawn and unsocialable), had invited quite a few more people. Ernie and Justin came, along with Hannah, who was cuddling her new kitten, compliments of Crookshanks and Mrs. Norris. Eliza came in with Ginny, both of them housing obvious reservations about being in such close proximity to the hated Potions professor. Eliza had thankfully left Pattie in the Hufflepuff common room, as Oliver was already zeroing in on Hannah's poor kitten. Oliver was starting to delight himself by pulling the kitten's tail and then quickly running away before it could pounce. It was a smart little bugger too - he waited until Hannah's back was turned, so all she saw was her kitten trying to attack an innocent looking Oliver (well, innocent except for the evil sounding chuckles he was emitting). "No, Kaoru! Leave him alone! Don't attack Oliver! Bad kitty!" Hannah scolded her kitten, oblivious to Oliver's misbehavior. As June was still demanding treats from Professor Snape, Neville decided to risk being bitten by a boggart and picked up the pink furball by its tail. Oliver made some strange huffing sounds and pouted as Neville carried him across the room and dumped him in front of Harry, who was talking in earnest with Florean.

Neville wandered over to Llian, who was talking with Cho and her friend Rachel. "Happy birthday Llian," Neville greeted him. "How does it feel to be fifteen finally?"

Llian grinned widely, but both Cho and Rachel looked shocked. "Fifteen? You're only fifteen?" Cho asked.

"Of course I am," he said easily, oblivious to Cho's distress. "They weren't sure to put us in fifth or fourth year, but since we would be fifteen for the greater majority of the year and our skill levels were higher than fourth year we went ahead and went for fifth year. For the big five! Oh, yeah!" He hit Neville on the back jokingly. Fifth years were notorious for spending the most amount of time in the study room. "If we had come here for the first year they would have had to wait until we were eleven to admit us."

"When you told me your birthday was November 25, I assumed you'd be turning sixteen - I thought we'd be the same age then!"

"Aw, don't worry. We're the same age in spirit, if not in the flesh," he said, winking at Neville, who was actually about to turn sixteen in several weeks. Cho looked slightly unhappy at dating a boy even more younger than she had thought, but she politely continued the conversation with Llian. Neville wandered off, wondering what Cho's problem was. If she really liked Llian she really shouldn't care whether he was seventeen, twenty-one, or fourteen. He supposed she was shocked to learn she had been dating a fourteen-year-old all this time. 'Try learning that your girlfriend is actually thirty!' Neville thought. Of course, June really was fifteen because of the de-aging potion, but she had technically been on the earth for thirty years.

Since June and Professor Snape were obviously making no effort to direct the party, Llian finally took control. They played many silly and downright weird games under Llian's guidance, like Pin-the-tail-on-the-Boggart, and some semi-normal ones, like an enlarged version of Wizard's Chess where many different boards and pieces overlapped. The Headmaster seemed to enjoy the games the weirder they became, clapping with joy when Llian came out with a new idea that the rest of them at first were quite opposed to. Neville had to admit though, as weird as the games Llian was introducing were (Twister? Where did he get these things from?) they were very enjoyable. Everybody was laughing with glee by the time Snape finally brought out the cake from where he was hiding it inside the grandfather clock that stood in a corner.

June was disappointed after she and Llian blew out the fifteen wizards candles that she would have to cut the cake for everybody else before serving herself. Cake and pumpkin juice balancing on their knees, all the guest sat around the pile of presents by the fireplace and watched June and Llian attempt to stuff their mouths and rip up wrapping paper at the same time. Llian completely desecrated any paper that was on his presents while June ripped off only one end and slid the rest of the paper off, leaving a neat pile of paper as opposed to Llian's shreds.

June had gotten mostly books while Llian received an abundance of Quidditch supplies. If anyone couldn't think of what to get them, they only had to give June a journal or notebook (she needed a new one practically every week) and Llian some stationary (apparently he had lots of penpals - Neville wasn't surprised as Llian loved to talk). Dumbledore had given June a small package of kit-kats (she loved that) and a Muggle book called Sometimes the Magic Works by Terry Brooks. Rachel had given Llian a purple velvet shirt which Neville thought looked very nice, if a bit, well, fruitish. He was angered when he saw Rachel give Cho a meaningful look as Llian thanked her heartily and slipped in on over his school robes. Rachel had surely told Cho what she had overheard in the school hallway, Neville was almost certain as he watched the exchange, his stomach sinking almost to the floor. Neville hope Cho was smart enough to accept Llian for who he was.

The twins were almost done with the pile when they came to the two small dark green wrapped presents on the bottom. There was one for each of them and they unwrapped them at the same time. June's was a thin gold ring with a light blue forget-me-not on top, Llian's a gold watch, the initials SSS engraved on it's underside. Neither present had a card attached, but both of them were obviously pleased with the jewelry. They jumped up and hugged Snape fiercely, who blushed and protested. "Of course it's from you, you old coot!" Llian said, kissing his father grandly on the cheek. "Who else would give us such expensive, beautiful, and sappy gifts? Which reminds me!"

Llian took a poorly wrapped large box covered in light and dark green printed paper from behind the couch and dropped it in his father's lap. Snape looked at it mistrustfully as if it might explode in his face before finally asking, "And what is this?"

"It's your un-birthday gift!"

"My what?"

"Your un-birthday! Just open it, old man," Llian suggested as he started ripping off some of the paper since Snape made no effort to even touch it. Snape careful opened the exposed box and looked inside warily. Something with fur shot out of it straight into his face, knocking his chair backwards with an oomph! Llian pried the furry creature out of Snape's face and held it up by it's scruff for everybody to see. It was a ginger kitten who was fiercely resisting being held. "It's one of Mrs. Norris's kitties!" Llian explained. "I thought you would like a pet."

"You thought so, didn't you," sneered Snape, picking himself gingerly off the ground. "Well, you can think again! I won't have that flea-ridden thing in my quarters! You can just find it another home."

Llian shoved the cat into Snape's arms, where it curled into a ball and started purring loudly. "But it likes you," June protested. "Please keep it, it needs a home where it can be loved!"

"In that case, why would you want me to keep it? It will find no such thing here," Snape insisted.

Both Llian and June put on their sad-puppy-dog face and peered at the purring kitty in Snape's arms. "Please, please please take the kitty for us? Please?" June begged. "I'll never ask for anything else again!" Snape gulped, suddenly having the feeling that he wasn't going to be able to squeeze out of this one. "At least keep it for now until we can find another home for it! Filch can't take any more of the kittens, he still has two more to give away."

Snape sighed and silently admitted defeat. He didn't think he would be able to pry to kitten out of his arms even if he wanted to. It's sharp claws were already entwined with his robe. "All right, I'll keep it just until you can find a proper home for it," he growled. The twins exchanged a look - they had no intention of even looking.

"So what are you going to name it?" Llian asked. Ducking from a daggered glare from his father he added, "That is, until we find another home for it," he lied

Snape considered it for a bit. "I consider names to be important - they are a sign of character."

"How about Ava?" Neville suggested suddenly. Llian and Snape shot a look at him, but June, oblivious to their reaction immediately jumped up and down and clapped her hands excitedly. "Yes, yes - that would be perfect," she gushed. She picked up the kitten who struggled in her grasp and cooed in its face, "Can we call you Ava? Avialle, you are the most beautiful and perfect kitty in the whole world! Do you really want to call it Ava?" she asked Snape. Snape wanted to protest, but he didn't want to harm the perfectly blissful look of expectation on June's face. He was about to nod when June added, "Unless you want to call it Muffin?"

Llian and Snape immediately took the other name before she could change her mind. "Muffin, Muffin, what a perfect name!" Llian exclaimed. "Yes, it looks just like a Muffin," Snape agreed. Everyone else, except for Dumbledore and Florean, looked horrified that the evil greasy git Snape was actually agreeing to name his cat Muffin. June was overjoyed. She held the kitten up for everyone to see and exclaimed, "I hereby name thee - Muffin!" She hugged the squirming beast close to her face where it tried to claw out the charcoal eyes it couldn't quite reach.

"Poor cat," Eliza whispered sympathetically to Ginny, who nodded. These dog lovers just didn't understand that cats didn't like to be petted and played with the same way as dogs. "If that was Pattie she was holding like that, June's jugular would already be torn into."

Neville's face was a mask as Llian tried to catch his eye. 'What did you think you were doing?' Llian mouthed, but Neville ignored him. He waited patiently while all the guests departed. June was the last person to leave, stuffing her pockets with brownies and other goodies Snape had gotten for her. She had picked up all the paper on the floor that Llian had left. Giving Snape a quick kiss on the cheek and grabbing the bag she had stuffed all her presents into she left arm in arm with Neville. Instead of heading back to the Gryffindor common room, Neville steered her into an empty classroom, closing the door behind him.

"What's this all about, Neville?" June asked.

"I needed to talk with you in private."

"You could have talked with Llian and Papa there," she said. "We were together only yesterday."

"They don't think I should tell you."

She hesitated. "Tell me what?" she said slowly.

"They. . .June, you aren't Llian's sister."

"I'm not? How could you possibly know? We're both half-Vola and look exactly alike. We get along better than most siblings - we're best friends practically."

"I know, but you're not his sister - you're not even related to Professor Snape."

June stared at Neville, completely unconvinced. She looked concerned at his strange speech. "Tell me."

"You took a de-aging potion fifteen years ago that permanently wiped away all your memories and made you an infant like Llian. Your real name is Ava."

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She continued to swim along the long wall, shivering in her drenched clothes. She closed her eyes tight every time something floated past her. The edges of the pool were grimy and the liquid became thicker, like it had coagulated there. 'Not blood, not blood, not blood,' she thought desperately. 'I'm swimming through dirty water,' she tried to convince herself. 'It's brown, not red.'

She was tired now, but she wondered what would happen when she became exhausted. She felt no bottom beneath her and was afraid to dive down too deep. Sometimes, the nondescript blobs bobbing up and down on the water were suddenly pulled underneath, June had no idea by what and she didn't want to know. She felt saw something odd coming farther up that lined the wall she was holding onto. Coming closer, she saw it was a ladder, bolted to the side of the pool, that went straight up. Could she climb it? Should she? She reached up a slimy hand and grasped a metal rung, hauling herself out of the pool. Blood red liquid squirted off her clothing onto the wall. She had climbed for only several feet when the rungs started to move downwards, back into the pool, like an escalator. 'What the-' She started to climb faster and faster, but the metal rungs continued to move down. When she was once more level with the blood - no, liquid, just some unidentified liquid - it stopped. She stubbornly tried to climb it once more but the same thing happened.

"What do I do now?" she asked out loud.

She looked up and found the movie screen still above her. It constantly hovered above her, moving in whatever direction she went. It now said, 'Nowhere.'

"Well, you're being very helpful aren't you!" she yelled. "Why don't you just go away? Or why don't you tell me why I'm here and how I got here! I want to know what this place is! And who is putting these stupid words up there?"

'Do you really want to know?'

"Yes!" she screamed, suddenly not so sure that she did. It stayed blank this time. June floated on her back, waiting for it to say something else but it never did. Suddenly something sharp poked into her entire back, even the back of her legs and head, as if many tiny daggers were being stuck into her at once. It started to pull her downwards into the pool. She choked on the liquid that quickly rushed in on top of her, flailing her arms in frustration. Whatever was holding on to her back continue to sink. 'Oh, God - I can't breath!' she thought. 'I'm going to die!'

But suddenly she stopped going downwards when she hit something solid, presumably the floor of the pool. She couldn't see anything, being afraid to open her eyes in this water, but felt ropes wrap tightly around her and drag her forward, towards where the wall was. But she never felt a wall, only liquid rush past her. Suddenly she could breath again. She opened her eyes to see the vine-like ropes slithering away. Behind her was a solid wall of liquid. The pool was being held up by apparently nothing, like the Red Sea parting. 'Red indeed,' she mused. 'Must be magic.' "I knew I was dreaming," she addressed the wall.

"Incorrect," a familiar voice said behind her. She turned to face a girl who looked exactly like her, save the blood red drenched clothes and hair. "Are you ready?"

She gaped at this stranger who appeared to be her twin. "Ready for what?"

"To meet who you came down here to meet."

"And who would that be?"

The twin-June smiled mysteriously. "Yourself."

------

(A/N: Some clarifications:

-The idea for Cho's gossipy, not-so-nice friend Rachel was already in my head and written down before OoP came out; I will attempt to keep her the same as I envisioned her without overlapping her with Marrieta from OoP, but they have MANY characteristics in common, so please don't think that they are the same person, because they aren't.

-I admit I am now slightly biased towards Cho, but it doesn't change my story much because I had decided from the first that I was going to kill her off anyway…Jk

-November 25 is significant because it is the birthday of yours truly (kit-kats are indeed accepted as gifts).

-I had decided in my original storyline to make Neville's birthday less than a month after June and Llian's. Obviously, this is now incorrect since we learn when Neville's real birthday is in Bk 5, but since this is AU anyway, I decided to just stick with it (you'll find out why later).

-Sometimes The Magic Works is indeed a Muggle book on writing by Terry Brooks. It actually came out in 2003, so they wouldn't have had it in 1995, but heck it's an imaginary world, so let's just pretend he was forced to publish it a couple years early.

-Idea of a creepy movie screen saying things in an empty room comes from the movie Stir of Echoes, which is also a book. Very creepy.)


	34. Flashbacks

(Warning: death, mutilation, and foul language enclosed within chapter) 

35.Flashbacks

June dried her wet hair furiously with her old Batman towel, still breathing in the putrid scent of her new conditioner. Guaranteed to eliminate the excessive oil in her hair, Llian had given it to her as a birthday present. The bottle had said "Herbal Mix" as the fragrance but June thought it smelled more like pesticide. Or maybe she was just biased because the concoction was pink; being a lover of deep blues, purples, and carmine, she couldn't see why anyone would want to waste space with a color as abysmal as pink. She quickly pulled on a pair of jeans and a t-shirt, staring dazedly at the dripping faucets of the empty bathroom. With any luck, the common room should be cleared out, and Florean waiting. When she entered the much dimmer common room, she was relieved to find that Harry and Neville were the only two still awake, playing a game of chess together by the fire. Neither one of them seemed to be making an effort on the game before them, although Neville was significantly ahead, Harry's side of the board in near disarray. They both looked up expectantly when she entered, Neville's brown eyes worried, Harry's green ones hard.

"Did you bring one of your journals?" Harry reminded her. Until today they had always been Ava's journals, insight into the psyche of her much loved dead mother, but now June knew she was the one who had written them. She had always felt so close to her mother, knowing they thought and felt things so similarly. Now that June knew she was reading her own writing from a different life, it gave the silent voice in the journals an alien, surreal quality.

June opened the top of her book bag to show Harry the two journals she had grabbed from the boxful of journals she and Llian had stolen from the orphanage storage years ago. Harry nodded and pulled out his Invisibility cloak from the pillow he had hid it behind. As they started towards the entrance Oliver came bounding down the stairs and ran in front of June, bouncing excitedly up and down with his arms outstretched for June to pick him up. "No Oliver - I don't want you to come, okay? We're going to be gone all night. I'd rather you stay here," she said firmly. Oliver's pink face fell. He stuck out his tongue and stomped away haughtily. June sighed but didn't follow. He was a temperamental little beast.

They made their way to Professor Fortescue's office, Neville taking up the most room in both height and width under the cloak. Besides having to huddle once against a suit of armor as Peeves squirted ink out of a water pistol at the floor and walls as he flew overhead, the castle was almost completely empty. They had just one more stairway and two more corridors when they suddenly came upon, of all people, Hermione and Draco, who were sitting in a small nook out of view from the main corridor. They were talking in low tones. Harry, despite his reservations, kept them all covered with the cloak but silently inched the group as close as he dared, lest Draco try anything funny. But the two were, to his amazement, discussing literature!

"-But don't you remember what she said in the opening of chapter thirty-six? There are wards against dark magic-"

"But that's mainly against outside dark magic," Hermione insisted. "There's a whole list of spells that can't be worked from outside the grounds towards the castle - most of them complicated, destructive spells involving multiple wizards. There's nothing protecting the inhabitants from something like the Unforgivables. Just last year all three Unforgivables were used on Hogwart's grounds, both in Professor Moody's classroom and in the Forbidden Forest!"

"I'm just saying that some can be detectable - not the curses themselves, but their sources."

"Well of course," Hermione snapped indignantly. "If you open a portal to hell or something some ward or other is liable to go off, probably blowing up the castle in the process."

Draco paled. "I wouldn't talk about it that flippantly Hermione. Didn't you read the section about the prophecies related to Hogwarts? There are some dark spells. . ." He shuddered. "There are some that even students as dense as Goyle or Crabbe. . ." He didn't finish the sentence.

Hermione sighed. "At least Hogwarts, A History is somewhat comprehensive. I found a book called The Founder's Castle in a used bookshop on Vespers Alley, a side street from Diagon Alley, and it was barely as long as one chapter of Hogwarts, A History!" She looked considerably disappointed at the thought of a book that wasn't thicker than it was long.

"Yes, of course I've read that - by Violet Shio wasn't it? There's actually an out of print series of books written by Chad Bringley on the architecture of Hogwarts that I've found extremely informative." Seeing the look of longing in her eyes he added, "I could let you borrow it."

"Would you?"

He put her arm around her shoulder and grinned. Neville thought he was going to puke. "I might. . .if you're nice to me. . ." He started kissing her sloppily. Hermione pulled away quickly. "Okay, Don Juan," she said sarcastically. "If you ever get a grip on your hormones. . ."

He continued to grin, unabashedly. "Have you ever read Don Juan by Lord Bryon?" he asked. "Absolutely marvelous, despite being a Mudblood. He's my idol!"

"The character or the author?"

Seeing that the two were on friendly terms and giving no indication of needing an extra hex or two, Harry nudged the others on and up the stairs. They paused outside Professor Fortescue's door. "Can you believe those two?" Neville exclaimed. "What were they going on about? D'ya think Draco put her under the Imperious?"

"Can't have," Harry said shortly, trying not to envision the look of horror on Ron's face should he ever discover Hermione's unlikely friendship. "Her eyes were bright and clear, not clouded and blank like someone under that curse." Harry and Neville were both familiar with the Imperious Curse, having been put under it themselves last year during their DADA class. "Now's not the time to worry about that," Harry continued. "We have enough to focus on."

As soon the door closed behind them Florean said bluntly, "Let's start. June, you sit across the table from me, Harry to my right, Neville sit out of the way and under no circumstance interrupt us." They sat around a small circular table which held nothing but a small candle, a Divining Candle which would burn, if necessary, through the night or through the week, whichever they required. "Give me the relic," he commanded. June withdrew the journal and handed it to Florean. He tensed visibly and closed his eyes for several seconds, his hands clasped tightly around the book. He looked at June. "This will be extremely easy. Your journal is literally saturated with memories, it will be no trouble at all for me to recall them. The question is, do you want to see them?" June nodded, her face determined. "I want to remind you that I cannot control which memories I recall - some will be graphic and humiliating, others likely boring and insignificant. I can only read what I am given. Harry, if I am draining too much power from you, if you start to become lightheaded and dizzy, pull away at once. This is important to June, but not at the price of your health." Harry nodded. They had done this before hundreds of times during their tutoring sessions, taking turns doing the Recalling. It was Florean's specialty and he felt obligated that both his students become, at the very least, proficient in the art.

Florean sat at the head of the table, watching June across from him, her face drawn and pale. She placed her hands palms down on either side of the candle and closed her eyes. Florean extinguished the fireplace and put several locking charms on the windows and door - disturbing the process often had unanticipated results. He put the journal underneath the dripping candle, and put his hands over June's. Harry sat nearby, ready to lend Florean energy should the elderly man begin to falter.

Neville watched intently from the corner as Florean began to whisper into the still room, his voice becoming harsher and harsher, "Avialle. . .Avialle. . .Avialle. . ." The candle began to flicker and then shot up nearly ten times his height. Neville was the only one who jumped. The flame spread and changed colors. Neville could clearly see a figure in it, as if it were a painting. The figure was lying down on a mat. Florean continued to chant, the picture in the candle becoming clearer and clearer with each breath.

"Avialle. . .Avialle. . .Ava. . ."

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"Ava!" A young boy who could be no more than seven squatted next to a matt. The girl lying there groaned and shivered even though she was lying in the middle of the wilderness, the dying afternoon sun beating down on her oddly pale skin. Small bits of grass twisted into knots lay around her head, as well as the necessary bird feathers. Having done her duty, Ava had retreated to her rock at the far end of the island to regain her strength.

She opened her eyes, staring directly into the sun. Being a full-blooded Volari, she didn't find it strange that peering directly into its shining mass did nothing more than make her pupils contract. The sun would never be an obstacle to ones who controlled the sky. The boy reached over and put a damp cloth on her forehead, stroking her cheek with his finger. She was even younger than he was, at nine years of age. She had already decided she was going to go far away when she grew up, and take Ty with her. Opal and Ty were her only two friends in the world. They would surely accompany her to the places of legend, where they said the trees covered the entire earth and it snowed practically the entire year - where those without wings road giant white bears and dressed in furs instead of firs.

"I thought you'd never wake up!" Ty confessed tearfully. "They wouldn't let me come see you - I had to sneak away. They keep on saying you're the Haran and a Nish like myself can't disturb you." Ty was indeed a Nish, destined to do the grunt work of the community of which Ava headed, being the Haran. It was a joke really - Ty could roam freely through the brush where ever he pleased, while Ava was locked away constantly. She had even less power than any normal nine year old. After being Haran for almost five months she was already sick of it. She used to run around and get in trouble with Opal and Ty, throwing stones at the grownups and stealing fish from the baskets. Now she was an adult.

"I'm just resting," she said vaguely, her voice distant and thin. She felt like her limbs were nothing more than the grass knots around her, those stupid good luck charms drenched in magic for her full recovery. Ava sometimes burned them, but someone always found out and replaced them. Being sick wasn't so bad - at least then they let her come out on her rock and think. Last night had been a marriage and Ava was required to bless the two. Blessings for the Volari meant visions. Try as she might, Ava hadn't been able to See anything at the ceremony. It was no problem - her mentor, in respect to tradition, rubbed calluna paste all over her body and wings. The calluna root was a hallucinogenic that everybody but Ava seemed to respect. It allowed her contact the dead, see the future, recall the past, all with greater ease. But the headache that it caused afterwards was very definitely, Ava decided, not worth it.

She reached out an arm towards Ty. "Help me up, wing-brother." He slid his arm under her back and pulled her up into a sitting position. She looked wistfully at the landscape around her. "I want to go flying," she whined.

"You can't," he said sternly. "Yer not supposed tuh."

Ava frowned and tried to stand, leaning heavily on her friend. "I don't like this. I don't want to be Haran."

"Better than a Nish," Ty said bitterly. A Nish was the lowest or the Volari, barely able to use magic. Legend said it was because an ancestor had bred with outsiders, which tainted their blood, making the magic weak and frail. In some places the Nish were killed.

"I'm tired! I want to fly! Why can't I fly anymore?" She tried a few teetering steps and was forced to immediately sit and rest on a rock. It seemed like she never had time to fly anymore. She was either in lessons or in a ceremony. Or recovering, as she was now. There was barely time for a couple of lessons on starting to control her magic and use her powers when another person wanted to contact a long dead cousin or have her predictions for a wedding or oversee a trial. She didn't see why everyone agreed with what she said every time. How do they know if she's predicting? What if she was lying? But she never lied and so she never got out of anything.

She stood again and fell. Ty leaned over her, his anxious face pressed close. "Take me back," she gasped. "I want to go home."

"You're not well yet," he said, his eyes not meeting hers. She would draw considerable strength from her rock, but Ty didn't voice the real reason he wanted her to stay here.

"Carry me on your back," she asked.

"No. They haven't moved. . . He's still there," he finished awkwardly. He had been at the ceremony too, but he had been seated in the back. It was still a mystery to him, something he had never seen up close.

"Carry me on your back, Nish!" she commanded. He flinched, but knew he would have to. Ava would never tattle on him for the punishable offense of refusing a Haran anything, but when she called him that name he knew she was serious. He sighed and leaned over so that his forehead touched the dusty ground. He watched several ants crawl throughout the loose strands of his hair while Ava climbed onto his back. Stretching wings which were so dark brown they were almost black, he climbed to the top of the rock where the ground dropped off into a cliff and pushed off. Someone with more power, like Ava, could have used their power to push off from the ground, but Ty needed some dropping room to glide through the air.

It was not far back to the village. Ava could spot it immediately as soon as Ty was off the ground. It was a matter of minutes before he started swooping lower and lower, closing in on the temporary settlement below. The Volari spent little time on human things like shelter, but they nevertheless had enough to make the cluster of huts noticeably a village. Ty started to fly around to the other side but Ava stopped him. "Bring me to the Grounds," she commanded. The Grounds was a small basin in which all the ceremonies took place.

"You don't want to go there," Ty advised. Why would she want to go there after last night? In truth, he definitely didn't want to go there.

"Bring me," she insisted. He grudgingly started towards the Grounds, which was now over halfway covered in shadow. A sliver of sunlight still shone on the lump at the far end where Ty was heading. He landed about twenty feet away from it. Ava slipped to the ground and staggered towards it. He reached out and grabbed her as she started to tip too far to the side. "Bring me closer."

They advanced on it, Ty purposely squinting his eyes so that he couldn't see all of it. They stopped several feet from it, the smell hitting them when the wind changed to blow in their faces full blast. Ty had only seen glimpses last night, and he wasn't keen on seeing more now, but his curiosity got the better of him. He looked.

It looked like a doll. Ty had thought that a dead body would somehow look...eerie, maybe. But it was just very still, very not-alive. Ty shuddered and drew Ava closer. "Let's leave. Please?" A hint of desperation entered his voice. Ava continued to stare wordlessly at the result of last night. She knew she was never wrong. She knew it was the truth. She remembered only snitches of the ceremony, the horrific visions she had of the husband-to-be strangling the wife within the year. She knew it would come to pass exactly as she had Seen, and it was her duty, as Haran, to stop it. But it didn't make it any easier. Tears gathered at the corner of her eyes. It had to be done, she knew, but why had she had to do everything herself? Why didn't anyone help her?

She turned to Ty and clambered awkwardly onto his back again. "Fly." She used her already dimmed power to push him off the ground and twenty feet into the air.

"Where?"

"I don't care." She rested her forehead on the back of his neck, feeling the familiar wings beat on each side of her. "Just fly."

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She landed neatly beside the teenager sitting on the ground drawing pictures in the sand and folded her carmine wings back away.

"Are you sure you want to go?" she asked.

He looked up at her silently, his long brown hair full of dust. "Maybe I should be the one asking you that. Don't you have duties more pressing than taking vacations to England?"

She sat beside him. "You have no right to ask me anything." Her charcoal eyes were very different. Six years later they were blank and devoid of the intense emotion that had filled them before.

"Of course not. Forgive me for forgetting my place," he said bitterly. "I am nothing but a lowly Nish. Perhaps it would be best if I had been Squashed at the Dropping." The Dropping was the Volari's version of their babies' first step - the child's first romp off the proverbial tree. There was a Dropping the first day of spring every year where infants and toddlers whose wings had grown were dropped at a Dropping ground, the higher the better. Every so often a Squasher would come - a child whose magic wouldn't work. A Volari's wings and magic were the same: without one, there was not the other. It was inconceivable for either to be missed. Squashers were considered nothing more than weeds. A Volari without working wings, it was said, was doomed to die anyway. No one grieved for the Squashed.

"But it would be especially dangerous for you. As the weakest Volari in the group you would be the first target," she said bluntly. "If you go you'll die."

"I don't care! I'd rather go and die than stay here and rot as a nobody!"

"But what good will it do?"

"I'll get the fuck out of here is what!"

"You can do that on your own. Nothing is stopping you from leaving." It wasn't entirely true as deserting Nish were liable to be hunted down and killed in some communities. Since their magic was weaker, their flight was more clumsy and slow, making them vulnerable to any bigot who held a grudge against them - as anyone no longer in the community was fair game to be hunted.

He shook his head. "If I leave, even if it's to throw my life away as you say, I want it to be for something. If I can kill, even injure, just one Death Eater, or do just one bloody thing to make this goddamn world better. ."

"You're not giving your life very much value," she commented dryly.

He turned on her angrily. "Why do you have to be this way? Why did they make you this way? I hate you like this - I don't know if I even care about you anymore! You're so cold and distant. It's like your being, the part of you that's so dynamic and stubborn, has been wiped out. I don't even know who I'm talking to. Don't you even care what you're turning into?" His breathing was ragged.

She gave a small laugh. "Turning into?" she mocked him. "Take a look at me. What could I possibly turn into that I'm not already?" Her eyes turned carmine again. After years of using the calluna root her eyes rarely stayed charcoal for longer than a few minutes. Ty used to be the only person who could make them stay their natural color, but now they changed around him too.

He stared at her. "You used to be really special to me." He choked on his words. "When I was young. . .and stupid, I figured I'd marry you." He stood. "I want to say something mushy, like I'll always be at your side not matter what, but it would be a lie. I can't stand by you anymore. You're not even a Volari anymore - you're some kind of. . .creature, some. . .wulgaru or something."

Her eyes stayed carmine as she answered. "All right. I'll help you. I'll arrange for you to come with the group. I'll go make arrangements and you can go prepare to die." She stood and without another word pushed off into the clear blue sky.

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Opal wiped the mud out of her clear blue eyes and shakily climbed to her feet. Where had Ava gone? Why had she suddenly disappeared? In hindsight, Opal hoped her friend was far, far away. She found her backpack was lying several feet away, it's contents spilled among the weeds. She could see Ava's journal, the one she had been storing for the Haran, half-lying in a puddle. Hearing movement behind her, she ignored the flaring pain on her back and crouched, her dagger ready. Volari rarely used wands, using the earth to conduct their power. But now her wings were gone. It had taken them all a while to realize they was falling. It had started with a sharp pain in their wings, like a cramp, but it became worse. They watched in horror as their wings started to shred, blood flowing freely from the broken skin. They tried to yell to the ones coming behind them in the back of the group to turn around, but seeing their comrades begin to fall the stragglers instead dashed forward to help only to fall themselves.

She watched the cloaked figure emerge from behind a tree warily. He made no attempt to come closer. "Did you have a nice trip?" a mocking voice said behind her. A woman's voice. She turned to find two more cloaked figures.

"Cowards!" she gritted her teeth. It had been an ambush, and they were all stupid enough to have been caught. With their wings, these cloaked humans were no match for the power of a Volari, but without their wings. . . She tried to reach for her magic, for that place in the pit of her stomach where it always stayed, burning and ready for release; her stomach felt empty. It was as if her magic had been drained out of her. "Are you going to fight me hiding behind your hoods or am I going to have to cut them off?" She raised her knife threateningly.

The woman laughed and pulled off her hood. She was quite beautiful, her dark hair shining in the moonlight. She gave Opal an almost mischievous look through her heavily lidded eyes and said, "Get a good look, animal. You won't live to see anything else."

Indeed, the last thing Opal saw was the three of them closing in on her rapidly, they with their wands extended and sparkling with magic, her with her small dagger raised defiantly against the fate which would quickly overwhelm her.

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A young woman sat on a bench in a busy park. Men in business suits, teenagers with headphones on, children running and laughing all flew by her. She ignored the lunch crowd that swarmed past her seat and continued writing in her journal. She leaned forward over her huge belly to reach the journal in her lap, her shirt stretched out of proportion. Llian would be here soon. This would be one of her last entries, one she knew she would come to read and reread quite frequently once she had drunken the potion. Every word must be exact. But she fancied herself a writer and found it quite easy to fabricate a story. She had to word her encounter with the man in the woods just so - she had visions of him in her next life and knew he would come to mean something to her. She called it her next life because it would be, even though she would biologically be the same person. She would be recreated. The rest of the story flowed out of her pen quite easily: how the group had been attacked, how she had just barely escaped with her life. She didn't need to use her imagination for this part: although she had not actually been there she dreamed about it nightly with deadly accuracy. She didn't know which was worse: the true visions of the attack or the false visions of the accusing eyes of her fallen comrades. The rest she invented as she went along: how she was sickening rapidly, how the midwife said she might not survive. It was a lie, but sometimes you needed lies.

She sighed and looked up longingly at the sky, wishing she could fly one last time. Was she prepared to live a lie? She foresaw that she would quickly become separated from Llian but took heart knowing that they would be reunited at least by the time they were ten or eleven. It was difficult to foresee what her own life would be like - she would be a different person, and liable to do any number of things. She knew that she would eventually find happiness, of some degree, and a home when she and her son finally answered to the call of England and completed the mission that had started fifteen years ago.

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The classroom was completely silent. The four of them blinked in the morning sun streaming through the window, their ears and eyes still readjusting from the barrage of visions that had assaulted them. They had seen Ava's life, her grueling lessons, the ceremonies, many of them hideous and sickening. June, far from being appalled at having her innermost past actions scrutinized, was relieved that Neville was there with her.

June wondered if it was fate for her life to be damned. She hadn't even had a chance last time, and there was no indication that this life was any better. What made it better? What made it worth it?

She saw Llian's smiling face, putting his arm around her shoulder as he spoke to her. She saw his face worried, leaning over her. She saw him, her son, her brother, her friend. He was a miracle - she had no idea where he had come from, from where his personality had sprung. From some indefinable part of herself and Snape, some secret place beneath the scowls and frowns? Llian was definitely worth it.

She saw Snape's face, hard and unblinking. How had he come to love her? And she him? There was a certain tenderness between them, how they were always calmed in each other's presence. He was definitely worth it.

And all the others: Harry, Dumbledore, Florean, Hermione, Ron, Ginny, Eliza, even little Oliver - they were definitely worth it. Her life was better than it had ever been because she was here with such wonderful people. People like you'd meet anywhere, even on the street maybe, but they were now her people and she loved them all.

And Neville. Neville who was already having to grieve for her death while she still lived. Neville who dreamed of his parents at night, their staring eyes and blank faces. She would give anything to spare him more pain. Neville was most definitely worth it.

'Is this it, then?' she wondered. 'After all of this, all these things I've been through, to die, just like that?' Was it fate that she was destined to die twice, destined to fail, destined to be doomed. 'No,' she decided. 'Not doomed.' She suddenly realized that this was exactly what she needed. She needed to know that she had lived through all of this once before, and that she could live through it once again. She should know better than anyone else that death definitely wasn't the end. Her Gryffindor spirit flared - it hadn't yet been squashed out of her in this life. She would never allow herself to become what she had ended up as fifteen years ago. She would forgive Snape, fully and completely; she would continue to be a sister to Llian. She was still alive, and so, dammit, she was going to live!

She looked up at Neville, who was still silent in the corner, watching her intensely. She smiled and after a brief pause he smiled shyly back at her. She looked over to Florean and Harry. How could she possibly thank them enough for doing this for her? "Thank you," she whispered, words fully inadequate.

She started to rise, about to bid goodnight to Florean when he spoke. "Sit down, girl. Your friend has a question for you that you might as well answer." He looked over to Neville, who was squirming uncomfortably in his seat.

"What is it, Neville?"

"I was just wondering. . .exactly what happened last Halloween, when you were in a coma. What was all that about Harry saving you?" He nervously added, "It's okay if you don't want to tell me."

June opened her mouth, speechless, but it was Harry who answered. "It's okay Neville, I'll show you." He turned to Florean. "Do you have a Pensieve I could borrow?" Florean nodded and wordlessly brought one out from a cabinet in the back of the classroom. Harry tentatively put his wand to his temple and started pulling off long thin strands of what appeared to be glistening cobwebs. He put them in the bowl and continued to pull more silver strands from his temple. Finally he beckoned Neville over and said unnecessarily, "This is what happened."

Without another word, he held firmly onto Neville's arm and pulled him into the Pensieve with him.

(A/N: Or, where I stole everything from:

-I don't know if there really is such a thing as a calluna root, but I took it from Ian Irvine's book Geomancer; it indeed causes visions. . .of madness!

-The word Nish is also from Geomancer guess what book I'm reading now?; it's a made-up nickname that means pipsqueak.

-Ian Irvine is, as far as I'm concerned, God in the Fantasy World -- Rowling being Goddess, I guess; if you have become curious at my constant recommendations and delve into his world, nothing could make me happier!

-The idea of throwing babies off of cliffs is my own deranged fantasy. . .or I'm a sicko. . .I do not really throw babies, nor do I advocate such an action. . .refuse to comment further

-Flashbacks, Part II, or how Harry saved June's soul from certain damnation last Halloween, coming soon!)


	35. Flashbacks II

A/N: This chapter is one long flashback, hence the title. There are several different Harrys, to start with the present-Harry and past-Harry. Harry and Neville are inside the penseive, while Florean and June wait for them in the classroom. They view memories from the Halloween feast which reveal where June has been for her week-long coma, and the significance of the random pool of blood.

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36. Flashbacks, Part II

Even with the floating pumpkins and bats fluttering in the rafters of the Great Hall, Harry didn't need to say that they were in Harry's memory of the Halloween Dance. Neville needed only to glance around at the students who lay on the floor or sat dazed in their seats, the poison already having worked so far into their brains that they didn't realize what was happening. Harry saw Neville look back and forth between the real Harry standing next to him and the Harry who sat at the end of the Gryffindor table, the latter's eyes so glazed over that he couldn't even see that Ginny next to him was lying with her cheek in a slice of pumpkin pie. Harry's eyelids were slowly lowering, but snapped back open as a hand lowered onto his shoulder. It was Fred Weasley, holding on to the back of Harry's chair, swaying as if drunk, all his energy consumed by the need to stay standing.

"Harry. . ." the red-head started to talk, but trailed off for a second, gathering his breath. "Something's wrong. Can't. . .can't think. Wrong." He tried his utmost to form the words with his numb face, but he was still barely understandable.

Harry looked like he was about to respond, but instead slumped back in his chair, his head rolling back and forth. His blurry eyes watched Fred stagger towards the door. Fred tripped over a classmate but continued towards the exit on his hands and knees, his crawling becoming slower and continually more sluggish. Eventually he collapsed to the ground, several feet from the door. Harry wearily closed his eyes.

Suddenly the room spun, exploding with colors like fireworks, giving both boys the sensation of flying, of being simultaneously suffocated and pulled apart.

"What's happening?" screamed Neville, starting to panic.

Harry grabbed his wrist in attempt to calm him. "I'm switching dimensions. I had just enough consciousness left to get out before my body fell into a deep sleep."

"You're leaving your body?" Neville was flabbergasted. He had heard that Harry and June could do such things, but he had never experienced it first- hand. "How are you doing this?"

"Astral projection," Harry said simply.

Harry couldn't help a small grin seeing Neville's awestruck expression as he looked at the creatures and currents that occupied this place. Well, 'see' wasn't really the right word, it was more a feel. Right now they were both following a bright green light which zigzagged between different opening and across a wide expanse of nothingness. Harry wondered if his face had looked the same as Neville's the first time June brought him here. Neville was obviously having the time of his life. Harry felt a burning guilt deep in his stomach: there were no happy memories awaiting them here.

By now the vast expanse of blue that surrounded them was littering with holes, some small and sparkling, others wide and gaping. Harry went straight into a square looking one, with his two unseen spectators in pursuit. "We're entering the chambers of the Council of the Dead," Harry explained. "All these holes are almost as far away from the physical world as you can get, which is why we had to travel so long. June calls them the Caves; most of them are dangerous. The only people you'll find in this one are ghosts, because they'll kill anyone living who tries to enter."

Neville started to struggle as they passed into the large hall, by Harry assured him that a memory couldn't hurt him. "But how come you entered it?" Neville asked, thunderstruck.

"I found out that I died fourteen years ago," Harry explained. "The rules say that only someone who's died can enter, so I fit the qualifications, even though I'm still alive."

Neville didn't know what to say. They watched as Harry, conspicuously the only person there who wasn't a pearly gray, walked over the end of the table and got in line. There were several ghosts in front of him waiting to make their various pleas, mostly concerning territory and treatment by the living. A ghost from the far end of the hall suddenly shouted, "Oi, Harry! What's kept you away for so long?"

"That's San," Harry whispered to Neville. "I met, er, him the first time I came here. He's friends with Myrtle, by the way, but they're not exactly speaking with each other right now." Harry looked a bit uncomfortable.

Intrigued, Neville inched forward to hear their conversation. ". . .And then she stormed off, not saying a word, and flooded the bathroom again."

Harry politely nodded his head. He was now two places away from the Council. "So, when you two aren't fighting are you, er, an item?"

A pained look passed over San's face. "Her? Oh, no - she would never come near me. She's been mad at me ever since I started experimenting with the operative transfiguration."

"Huh? Why would she be mad because of that?"

"Because I permanently changed myself into a man."

Harry gaped at him - er. . .well, him. "You what?"

"Well, my full name in Sandra, if you must know, but I always felt wrong about it."

Before Harry could respond it was his turn to speak with the Council. "Harry Potter!" the old man sitting on the throne-like chair in the middle of the table exclaimed. There were murmurs throughout the hall as Harry was recognized.

"That's Judge Snickens," Harry explained. "He's very strict but means well, mostly."

"Why are you-" Neville started to ask, but Harry quieted him. They watched Harry ask respectfully to look in The Book for where Juniper Snape was.

"The Book? What is that? And June was in a coma, you know that. What do you mean, where she is?" Neville asked.

Harry explained: "The Book of Records of the Living and the Dead - it's like the Marauders Map. Oh, nevermind, you don't know about that do you. Well, it basically keeps track of everyone, when they're born and records from their lives, and so on. I'm asking because I couldn't find June in her body. Usually even when someone's asleep you can find their consciousness inside them, but the part of June that made her, well her, was gone. It was like she was a shell. I didn't tell you guys because there was nothing you could have done anyway. Florean and I spent that week searching through the Void every night, thinking she had somehow left her body and couldn't get back. I was trying to locate her."

Judge Snickens rubbed his chin thoughtfully after peering into the thick moldy book for quite some time. "There is no Juniper Snape born fifteen years ago. Are you sure that's the right name?"

"Pretty sure," Harry said, looking a bit uncertain at this unexpected revelation.

"Well, tell me the name of her parents and perhaps we can find her through them."

"Her father is Severus Snape."

After consulting the book again, Judge Snickens asked, "Llian Snape?"

"That's her brother."

"Llian is the only child of Severus Snape."

Harry stood before the Council with his mouth hanging open for several seconds before coming to his senses. "Maybe you could look under their mother's last name, Jongleur? That was their last name before Snape adopted them, although I don't know why Llian would be under Snape without June."

Judge Snickens was now started to become a bit annoyed, more at his inability to find what Harry was looking for than at the boy's queries. "No success here either. It seems your friend does not exist."

Harry looked apologetic and was about to leave when he asked one more question. "Can you look under her mother then, Avialle Jongleur? She died in Australia when June was born. Maybe you can find a link to June there."

The old Judge patiently scourged the records once more. "Aha, I see the problem. Juniper Snape does not exist. This Avialle you speak of did have a child, Llian, and changed her name to June."

To say Harry looked a bit perplexed was an understatement. "But, no - the June I know is only fourteen going on fifteen. If her mother - I mean, if Ava changed her name to become June she'd be in her thirties, wouldn't she?"

"No, no," Snickens said happily, overjoyed that he had finally solved the puzzle. "We have Avialle's records from when she was born to almost a year after her fifteenth birthday, but they start back over at infancy on the same date her name was changed."

Harry blinked. "So, you're telling me that June is really Ava? Llian's mother? She's the one that Snape hurt fifteen years ago?" He was clenching his fists. "But what do you mean her years restarted?"

"Yes, yes. She must have carried out some permanent way to de-age herself to literally start her life over."

"Is that really possible?"

"Oh yes, there are many ways. The name change goes through a potions shop, so it is likely that she used a potion. If she set it for the right amount of time, she would end up the same age as Llian. So, here we are. . ." He murmured to himself as he searched further. His face suddenly paled, which is saying a lot since it was white to start with. "June is in the Reach. Or should I say Overreach?" Some of the ghosts in listening proximity laughed nervously.

There were several murmurs of disapproval and shock from the listening ghosts. "The what?" Harry asked.

"It's where your soul goes when a Dementor kisses you."

Harry gasped. "But how - why?"

"Apparently it is the effects of a potion she took."

"But it was only supposed to make her relive her life! Snape said so!"

"He must have not have figured in the effect the potion would have on different species. A human's soul will temporarily be pulled awry from it's body, causing the mind to automatically grab hold, making them relive their most poignant memories. By with a Volari it will snatch the entire soul away."

"How do I get to this Reach thing?"

"My dear boy, no one willingly goes into the Reach. Once you enter you cannot leave. I'm afraid you won't be seeing your friend again."

"No! I've got to find her! And she's coming back with me!"

Judge Snickens, although his face showed some compassion, was now visibly uncomfortable. "If you do you will be stuck there the same as her. No one has ever left it before. You cannot rescue her! If you are done, please step away from the table."

Harry left, his shoulders practically touching the floor, his face wet with tears. Neville glared accusingly at the real Harry next to him. "You knew? All that time you knew and you didn't say anything?"

Harry shook his head. "You know how June is. I didn't know if the information would help her cope better, or be the extra tidbit that finally pushed her over the edge. You never really know how she'll take things. She ended up handling it quite well, but. . .well, you never know." Neville nodded. It was true, sometimes June would react unexpectedly and break down, other times be stoic and unconcerned.

They watched as San cornered Harry beside the entrance. "You're going after her aren't you?" San accused.

Harry glared. "What is it to you? Yes, of course I'm bloody going after her. What are you going to do about it? You can't stop me!"

"Whoa, hey, calm down dude! I didn't say I was going to stop you. I was just thinking, since you're going to be stupid and try to find this place, if you go wandering around on your own you're liable to be killed before you ever find it. So I figure, since you're going to kill yourself anyway, I might as well do what I can. . .well, to help you if I can."

Harry studied him before answering. "You know how to get there?"

San laughed. "Do I know how to get there? The Reach is legendary - one of the first things you learn as a ghost is where the Reach is, so you know where to avoid. I could even go and stick my head in if I wanted to, but once you completely leave the Void to step inside you're stuck forever. Some people have been brave enough to go halfway in, but I would never risk it."

"So you'll take me?"

San hesitated. "Look, you can just stick your head in, you don't have to go all the way inside. Just look about and see if you can find your friend, and then maybe we can think about finding a way to get her to the entrance."

"If I have to go in, I'm going in," Harry said.

San sighed. "Harry, please don't do this. . ."

"Are you going to help me or not? Because if your not I'll stick my head in every single cave out there until I find the right one."

San looked truly alarmed. "You can't do that! There are even worse places than the Reach, especially for the living. . ." He shuddered violently. "Don't you want to think about this?"

"Look, I'm not the type of person to stand around thinking about things - I'd rather do something."

"Even if you get your soul sucked permanently out of your body? That's not very smart."

Harry was now shaking with anger. "I DON'T BLOODY CARE!" he howled.

San jumped nervously, but after a second regained his nonchalant composure. "All right, it's your own Death Day. Follow me."

Neville started to follow them across the Void, but the real Harry held his arm back. "That's enough. Let's go back now. You already know what happens - I found her and we both made it back; that's all you need to know."

Neville shook him off. "No, I want to know what's been giving June nightmares. I want to help her."

Harry stubbornly shook his head. "You really don't want to see. It's really disgusting." He shuddered at the mere memory of his time there. "Trust me, you don't want to go there."

"June stayed there for almost a week," Neville stated. "If June had to go there, then I'm going too."

Harry shook his head again, this time in resignation. "All right, let's go. But remember that I warned you."

Within no time they were standing outside a Cave that looked more like a dark stain, or a rip in the surface of the Void than any kind of entrance. Harry wasted no time in sticking his head in; San kept a firm grip on his back to keep him from accidentally falling in. He came back out. "I don't see her."

San looked for himself. "I guess she's not there," he said with insincere confidence.

Harry looked down at his feet for a second. "I'm going to have to go in after her. Please don't stop me, San. I know you don't want me to get hurt, but you know I'm going to get in anyway."

San considered this and finally nodded. "I don't like this, but if you're going to do this anyway I might as well stick around to try to help you. I'll stay here at the entrance." He paused. "You do know that you're incredibly brave, Harry Potter. A complete and total moron, yes, but also brave. I hope we see each other again soon."

"For June's sake, I hope we do too." Without a backward glance, Harry climbed into the hole. The two spectators followed the memory.

Inside the hole was an enormous pool of red liquid that stretched away for as far as Neville could see. It was foamy and thick in places, and strange objects, some flesh-colored (and textured), others blackened, that drifted in the still liquid. "Is - is this blood?" Neville whispered.

Harry nodded grimly. "It's not real, just keep on remembering that. Try to think of it as colored water."

Neville nodded but knew he would be able to do no such thing. He climbed down the ladder warily. He paused right above water level, but both Harrys were already swimming in it, so he let go of the rung and joined them. "This is so gross," Neville commented. Harry nodded, and they both set off after the memory-Harry, who was swimming across the wide expanse of liquid calling June's name. Suddenly he turned towards the wall again and his eyes widened. The real-Harry tugged on Neville's arm and gestured towards the wall. Neville turned his head to find a large screen hovering on the wall, with words printed in the middle: 'She's not here.'

Neville watched Harry stare at the screen in bewilderment. "Where is she then?" he called out.

'Down.'

"Down where?"

'Down there?'

Harry let out a small scream of frustration. "How to I get to her then?"

'You don't.'

"You aren't being very helpful. Who are you?"

'I am you.'

"Yeah, whatever. Look, I'm trying to find my friend; I don't have time to play riddles. Either help me or just go away." Harry sounded pretty brave, but Neville could tell from his face that he was scared out of his wits.

'I'm not the one who will be going anywhere.'

Harry didn't respond.

'Are you sure you would like to see your friend before you go?'

"Yes!" He strained to keep on looking at the screen while doggie-paddling, but it remained blank. "Hello?" Then, so quickly that no one had anytime to respond, Harry was pulled underwater, and Harry and Neville with him.

---------------------------------

(A/N: Ok, they were supposed to rescue June in this chapter, but it would have taken too long, so I decided to break it off and make it another chapter: Flashbacks, Part III!

Credits:

-The name Avialle Jongleur comes from Tad Williams' Otherland series - excellent books, by the way

-San's originally being a female has no significance to the larger plot; it's just a random fact from his/her history)


	36. Flashbacks III

37. Flashbacks, Part III 

Neville spat several times onto the floor; even though he knew his surroundings weren't reality, the blood that flooded his mouth when he was unexpectedly pulled underwater tasted real. He felt nauseous, but he managed to pull himself to his feet, leaning heavily on Harry. He looked up to see Harry confront - what, Harry? Sure enough, there was a third Harry, this one smiling sickly, with a greenish cast to his face. It gave Neville the chills.

"Who are you?" Harry demanded.

"I am you."

Harry made an impatient noise. "Where's June?"

The sick-looking Harry pointed over Harry's shoulder. They all turned around to see a long hallway that was deep blue as if it were surrounded by water. Harry wasted no time in taking off at a sprint. Harry and Neville followed him. Neville couldn't help feeling pleased that he wasn't too winded sprinting after Harry. Yet. At least all that running had been good for something.

The sides of the hallway glowed from inside - Neville could see strange forms floating beyond. "What are those?" he panted.

"The walls here are super-thin; it delves into other dimensions on all sides. That's why it's so easy to access someone's mind from here," Harry answered over his shoulder.

"Huh?"

Suddenly they were in a room. Neville heard a click behind him and turned to that a thick white door had been closed. The room was completely blank, except for a small bed in the corner whose mattress sagged almost to the ground. There was a thin window covered with strong bars that sunlight streamed through. There was a bundle on the bed.

They watched Harry move forward and draw the covers back. It was June, although a considerably smaller June. She was curled up into a ball, her eyes bright carmine. She was shivering and drooling on the bed sheets. "Help me," she whispered. "Somebody please help me. Don't leave me here alone."

She was obviously having a vision, and an extremely bad one. She needed help. "What's going on?"

"This place does to a person's soul the same thing a dementor does to your body," Harry answered.

"Why is it showing June's memories instead of yours?"

"Because I'm following her; these were sculpted for her."

"Sculpted?"

"Never mind. Had I stayed here longer, I have no doubt I would have gone through the same thing. I think it amused the - the thing that rules here to have me see June's horror before my own."

They watched June continue to shake. Harry put his arms around her, trying to comfort her. Suddenly June jumped up and ran to the door. "Let me out!" she screamed. "Let me out! Let me out! Let me out! Let me out!" She kicked and scratched at the door, tearing her fingernails ragged and bloody. She started to bang her head against the door in rhythm to her chanting screams.

No one came.

Suddenly the wall opposite them fell away, and they followed when Harry stepped thorough it, looking longingly over his shoulder. Neville understood. He wanted to stay and help June too, even if it was only to hold her and make sure she didn't hurt herself, but it was her memory and there was nothing any of them could do. 'A memory of a memory,' Neville thought. Like a play within a play. It was so confusing: multiple Harrys and memories of other memories. . .

They followed the blue hallway again but this time were blinded at the end by sunlight. Once their eyes adjusted Neville found they were in a playground. Most of the kids were playing on the swing set or tossing a ball towards a basketball hoop, but one girl sat by herself. Neville, immediately knowing who it was, headed over to the sidewalk and sat down next to her. It took Harry a good half a minute more to find June in the crowd. She was humming to herself. Neville recognized it as her "Ignore Me" tune. When she was feeling very shy and didn't want to be noticed she would hum this. She was currently mashing the end of a banana into the concrete, drawing with it as though it were a giant quill.

"Wha'cha doing?" a blond-headed boy asked, standing over her so that his shadow covered June's face. June shrugged. Her hand stopped for a second, but then continued mashing the banana. Suddenly the boy reached down and grabbed it from her.

She jumped to her feet. "Give that back!" Her voice was high and shrill, and several people looked across the playground at her.

"Does baby-baby want her banana?" the boy mocked. "Is cry baby gonna cry?" He kicked some sand over her shoes.

She shrieked in rage and tried to hit him, but he jumped back. She tried kicking some sand back on him, but it caught in the wind and flew back in her face. Her eyes started to water and her lower lip to tremble. "I'm not crying!" she declared.

The boy laughed. Other kids started to come over. "Cry-baby lost her banana. Has anyone seen a banana?" He turned to the other kids, who shrugged and smiled stupidly.

Neville's insides were twisted into knots. He could see how upset June was getting. He didn't want to see anymore. Luckily, Harry found another doorway at that point and they were running through the hallway once more. Neville noticed that the forms beyond the wall were much, much closer. He could almost catch a glimpse of fur, one cold blue eye, a claw. . . He wasn't sure exactly what he was seeing, but whatever it was he didn't like it.

They ran and ran through more hallways and rooms and parks of all kind, each with a younger June inside. In one she was screaming and flapping her arms around wildly in a pool, unable to swim and starting to drown. In another she was being chased by kids and adults alike throwing rocks and shrieking "Witch! Witch!" She jumped over a chain fence and disappeared across a field, the people in pursuit. In another she was curled up into the corner of the bathroom, blood leaking down her arms and dripping off the razor she held in her hand.

Finally, after it seemed they had run forever and had seen more memories than Neville could even remember, they entered a room where there were three Junes. One lay corpse-like on a bed, her limbs mere sticks beneath her hospital gown. The next June was the correct age, but paler than usual as she watched her glaze-eyed younger self twitch and whimper. A third June had a sickly greenish cast about her and was smiling in delight.

In the memory, Harry rushed forward to grab June. "June!"

Her face was a caricature of shock. "What - no! Go away! Get out of here!" She pushed him frantically towards the exit. "Get out while you still can!"

But the fake Harry and June stood in front of the exit. "Where exactly do you think you'll be going?" they asked as one. "No one can leave here." They started to merge into one person, a kind of disturbing siamese-twins.

Harry didn't wait to argue. He grabbed June's hand and sprinted through the door on the other side, the one leading deeper into June's memories.

"You can't out run us!" June/Harry cried. They didn't even bother running after the two, walking slowly instead. It was like a bad horror movie.

Harry stopped in the middle of the hallway. The forms through the walls were closer than ever. Neville could just make out a long shape and the hint of scales. What the. . .

"You don't want to do that!" June/Harry warned, walking slowly towards the two terrified teenagers.

"Why not?" Harry demanded. "Why not just slip through the wall. So what if we die? At least we're trying to do something. That's what you want isn't it? You want us to give up and let you parade us through your little horror-house?"

"There are things worse than death out there. You will be defenseless little boy. You and your friend will be eaten alive." June and Harry continued to merge together, growing larger and larger. Extra arms and hair sprouted everywhere. June screamed. Neville opened his mouth in horror.

Harry, ever a Do-er over a Thinker, grabbed June's arm and pulled them both through the jelly-like walls and into the blue void beyond. Harry and Neville had no choice but to follow. The air here was thick and as hard to move through as water. Neville swam away from the walls, looking over his shoulder to see the monster banging on the walls. It couldn't get through. It was as trapped there as the thousands of souls it had tortured.

Neville had to remind himself constantly that this was only a memory, but even still he was starting to panic. No, not starting, he amended. Panicking!

But Harry didn't hesitate. He made straight towards the left as if he knew where he was going. Neville tried to swim after him and at the same time look over his shoulder at the forms that were rapidly approaching. Harry tapped him on the shoulder. "It's going to be okay," he whispered.

"Okay!" Neville's voice rose several octaves. "We're all about to be eaten by, by - monsters! And you tell me it's okay? How the hell did you get out of this?"

Harry smiled ironically. "Watch."

Harry reached out an arm as if he were summoning something, and one particular form shot forward. It was the largest snake Neville had ever seen in his entire life - longer than the great hall and as wide as a classroom. It stopped besides Harry and appeared to be talking to him. Finally, Harry helped June up onto it, and Harry and Neville followed suit, sitting on top of the scaled monstrosity. Several other creatures came out spitting and clawing towards the two humans, but the snake hissed and bit any that dared come close. Soon they dropped into the background as the snake gained speed, flying in what could have been any direction. Neville saw several other portals, obviously leading to other dimensions. At some eyes peered out, others were simply gaping holes.

Neville turned to Harry. "I don't believe you!"

Harry looked at Neville with his poker face. "What?"

"Of all the luck in the world! You just randomly escape into another dimension, just happen to befriend a snake that's ten times more powerful than all the other creatures. Only you Harry, only you." Neville shook his head in bewilderment. He didn't understand what strange luck possessed Harry. Sure he had seen it before, but every time it continued to stun him. Harry was always jumping into some kind of trouble and every time he emerged unscathed. Well, not quite unscathed, as June had attested secretly to Neville, but at least alive and conscious.

Neville spied a wall of red that reminded him of the pool of blood. He hoped they avoided it. Just to spite him, the snake headed straight for it. It stopped right besides it and they all climbed off, memories and viewers alike. Harry spent several more minutes in deep conversation with the creature.

"How can you just sit there and hiss to some monster? Aren't you afraid he'll eat you?"

"It's a Void Snake, not a monster, and she is extremely wise and helpful. You couldn't hope for a better friend than a snake. Her name is Lysiris." He looked fondly at the snake. "I should go visit her again."

Neville tried not to retch at the casual mention of visiting a Void Snake as if it were an old friend whose house you stop by for tea.

Finally, Harry was done and they went towards the red door, only to find it blocked! Harry stood silently by the door and tried to sense what was blocking it. June had a better idea: she start pounding on the closed gate with her fists and shrieking, "Open up you goddamn piece of crap!"

"Harry?" a faint voice called from the other side of the portal. Harry pushed June aside. "San, is that you?" he called back.

"Harry! You're still alive! You've got to get out of there. . .going crazy - I stuck my head in a minute ago and all the, er, water was boiling and swirling." There was a brief pause and then a translucent head suddenly appeared. "Oh, dear!" the ghost exclaimed. "This isn't the same place. Goodness, it's a double portal! Those things are dangerous; no wonder it can only be opened from one side."

Harry sagged against the door, trying to push it open. "You can't open it?" For the first time in the entire batch of memories, he sounded defeated.

San looked at him hard. Finally he said, "Give me your hand."

"What?"

"Don't make me say it twice. Both of you. Obviously you are both experienced with portals or you wouldn't be here in the first place. You try from that side and I'll help hold it open over here."

"It won't work!" Harry exclaimed. "You said yourself that no one's ever opened it before."

"Harry, you're the one who started this whole mess, and you're going to see it through." He pulled his head back out, leaving only his palms showing; they were once more staring at a solid dark red wall. "On the count of three now. We're not going for brute strength here - we need focused, energized power. One. Two. Three!"

June and Harry pressed their palms flat against the gate, closing their eyes in concentration. A carmine light spread from June's palms, and a green one from Harry's. But soon colors of all kinds were swirling over the door's surface: reds and yellows and blues. Eventually a brilliant gold started coming from Harry. June's carmine cleared into sparkling silver.

Suddenly the red of the gate starting swirling in a whirlpool of colors, going faster and faster counter-clockwise until it was a blur. The blur became clearer and clearer until they could see straight through it. "Hurry!" Harry shouted. He and June scrambled through, Neville and Harry right behind them.

On the other side of the door was a solid wall of white. Almost every single ghost that had been in the Council's Chambers was there, each lending a thin trail of energy that swirled into the whirlpool. The light was incredible. Most of it, Neville noted with shock, was coming from June and Harry. He knew, almost instinctively, that they two alone had been the ones to open the door. The ghosts had merely shared their energy to support the two. A roaring cheer went up among the ghosts. Judge Snickens was one of closest to the two teenagers. "Harry, I knew you could do it! Merlin charm you! First time the Council of the Dead has adjourned for a short break in five hundred years!"

A crying Myrtle threw her arms around Harry. She hiccupped violently and gave him a rather wet kiss on the cheek. Neville looked over the ghosts and saw a few familiar faces: he even saw his great-uncle Bernie, who had died last year. He started to wave but then remembered they couldn't see him. Even the Hogwarts' former History of Magic teacher was there, with the Bloody Baron right behind him, with what could have been a vague smile on his face.

Before Neville could take in any more, Harry once more took his arm and guided him through what appeared to be a fireworks display accompanied by a soft rushing sound. Then they were in a classroom lit by the noonday sun. June, the real June this time, was sitting on the windowsill, reading Running With the Demon by Terry Brooks. Florean sat behind his desk, eating cashews and reading The Doomesday Book by Connie Willis. The empty Pensieve lay in front of Neville on the same round table that he had left years ago, though it had only been several hours. He turned to Harry, who was standing silently by his side.

Neville sat down heavily, reaching over first to grab a nut from Florean. He looked over at June. She grinned at him. "So what'd'ya think?"

He opened his mouth, speechless. Finally, his lips managed to form one word: "Wow."

----------------------------------------------------------

A/N:

-Running With the Demon is a real book, and it is by Terry Brooks. It's fantasy and really awesome, and has lots of death and surprises in it - so read it! Connie Willis is a sci-fi writer and goddess, you should read her too.

Yes, we will finally get back to the real story now. I promise to let up on all of the confusing flashbacks. . .a bit. . .


	37. Changes

A/N: After all of that serious stuff, here's some funniness! 

38. Change

Neville was glad he had decided to wear a sweater over his turtleneck. Even sitting on the rug right beside the common room fireplace he was still shivering in the late November chill. He turned back to June, who was currently holding a piece of soap. "So those caves aren't really doorways, they're just portals?"

She nodded, bringing the soap closer to sniff it. "Yeah."

He shook his head. "This is so wicked."

"Well it's nothing unusual. How do you think that the common wizard apparates? They open a tiny portal. It's actually a very unnatural process, but it seems to work well. Have you ever seen brown soap before?"

"Er, no."

"Llian swore it would help clear up my complexion, but I wonder if he's pulling my leg."

"That doesn't sound like something Llian would do." He snuggled closer to her. The weekend had flown by; they only had thirty minutes left until their Monday classes started.

"I know. But it's kinda weird." She examined the soap carefully, inspecting its surface for the minutest detail.

"Will you stop that? Are you going eat it or something?"

She raised an eyebrow, Snape-like, and careful nipped the side of the bar. She chewed it slowly, rolling her tongue over it, and then made a face and spat it into the fire where it simmered and burned away. "It tastes poisonous. I bet it'll make me break out more. Soon you won't even be able to see my face at all because it will be covered in zits." Clutching his sweater in her cold hands, she buried her face under his arm in mock agony.

"Stop your whining!" he admonished. "This is the first time you've ever had zits and all you can do is complain. I've had zits for a whole year and you don't hear me make such a big deal every time my face breaks out. Tell me more about the portals."

She shrugged. "What about them? Harry and I can both open portals to other dimensions. That's how he lived fourteen years ago when Voldemort tried to kill him." Neville flinched, but she ignored him. "He opened a portal from the world of the dead back into his body."

"Could he do it again?"

She shook her head in frustration. "How can you ask that? The only way we'll ever find out is if he's put in the same situation. And it's happened to other people before too, people who were assumed dead and then suddenly were able to pull through. People who have had near-death experiences." She juggled the soap with one of the donut holes she had brought back from breakfast. June liked to bring a couple of donuts and bagels back to her room. Apparently she hoarded them in a cookie jar. The soap flew one way and the donut hole the other. "Damn!" She scurried after the donut hole, blew the dust off, and popped it into her mouth.

"That's gross! You don't know what's on the floor."

She rolled her eyes. "The house elves clean it."

"Can't you sit still for two second today? You've been moody all this morning, and yesterday too. What's up with you? You keep on blowing up and then ignoring me and then trying to convince me that your wings can hold my weight and I can fly with you."

"They can!" she exclaimed enthusiastically.

"Get a life," he huffed. "Tell me more about the portals, dammit!"

She jumped up. "I'm gonna try out my new soap. Maybe it will make my zits disappear!" She spun around in circles as she made her way to the girl's bathroom, knocking over several chairs in the process.

Harry, who had been sitting on the couch staring absentmindedly into the fire, stood up and walked over to Neville. "June can't tell you very much about the portals, Neville. I'm sorry. She's not trying to hurt your feelings on purpose."

"What's been up with her?"

He shrugged. "I don't know. She's just being. . . June."

Neville shifted uncomfortably. "Is she freaking out because of the marathon?" June had been trying to convince her father to let her run the marathon she had been obsessed with for months. She had even offered to accept being allowed to run the marathon as a Birthday present. Snape, however, was adamant in insisting that it was too dangerous for her to leave the safety of Hogwarts.

"I don't know. I find it best to not try to delve too deeply into the deranged mind of June." Suddenly June ran out of the bathroom. There was a deep frown etched on her face, one of the rare ones reserved for especially taxing situations.

"Hey June! Did the soap not work?" Neville called. But June looked through him as if he were a fly. She jerked her head from side to side, scanning the common room, though Neville had no idea what for. Ginny choose that moment to bound down the stairs to the common room. June sprinted straight for her and started talking excitedly, flinging her arms everywhere as she talked, her voice even higher than usual. Neville couldn't hear what she was saying. Maybe she was asking to borrow zit medicine. Girls!

He blinked. Both and Ginny and June had disappeared. "Where did they go?" But Harry, who had been watching Ginny intently out the corner of his eye, didn't know either. They were still watching the stairs when Hermione entered next. Harry waved her over, but Ginny appeared again and motioned her back up the stairs. "What is with everyone today?"

Harry stretched out on the floor, practically putting his head in the fire. "Girls!" he exclaimed. He turned back to Neville. "Anyway, it's not that we're not allowed to tell you about the portals - it's just that we don't know much about them. I mean, I can describe what it feels like to open one and how my energy flows along its lines and bends them, but I can't exactly explain how to do it. I think it's one of the things the Ministry studies in the Department of Mysteries."

Ginny ran back downstairs and sat next to Harry and launched into a description of the report on the Tornadoes, her favorite Quidditch team, which had just played Ethiopia that weekend. Neville caught Harry looking at her out the corner of his eye several times. When she finally took a breath, Neville interjected, "Hey Ginny, do you know what's wrong with June today?"

Ginny barely suppressed a fit of giggles. She looked a bit embarrassed when she finally regained control enough to talk. "I'm sorry, it's really not that funny; I shouldn't be laughing. It's just - well, the way she's acting. . ." Ginny started snickering again. "I can't help it!" she declared, throwing up her hands. "It's hilarious. But poor June."

"What are you talking about?" Neville asked. Was she speaking in a different language? But Ginny wasn't interested in continuing the topic, as she soon engaged Harry with several questions about Defense Against the Dark Arts, since Harry was always at the top in that class.

Accompanied by Hermione, June finally came back out less than ten minutes before class started. She had changed her outfit to her favorite black jeans and a different t-shirt. "You know you're going to get into trouble again for not wearing the Hogwarts uniform?" Neville admonished. She shrugged. They waited for Ron to join them before heading out for their first class of the day. Ginny left them for the front entrance to go to Herbology as the rest of them descended the stairs to the dungeon. They were halfway down to the first level when June stopped in mid-stair, bringing her hands to her mouth with a small squeak.

"I have to use the bathroom!" she shouted unnecessarily.

"Ju-une!" Neville groaned. "You're always late for class. Why didn't you go earlier?"

"I did," she snapped, looking positively murderous. She sprinted back up the stairs.

"Geez, forgot to take her sanity pills this morning, that one," Ron muttered. "Why is every girl I know completely insane?"

Hermione made a small sound of disapproval, but was too busy concentrating on making it to class on time to stop to argue, once again, with Ron. They made it into the potions dungeons just as the bell rang for class to start. It didn't stop Snape from taking off points for their late entrance, however. "But we were in the door before the bell rang!" Neville protested, but he only lost even more points for talking back.

"You were not seated and ready to start class, therefore you are late. If any of you doubt this, you are welcome to stay after class to - discuss this with me." With a final menacing glare, he strode back to the front of the room and began giving directions in his silky voice for the day's potion.

While making rounds later, he leaned down next to Neville and asked, "And where is June this morning? Is it really so much trouble for the poor Gryffindors to lower themselves to tromp all the way down to the dungeons?"

Neville rolled his eyes. "Why don't you ask your daughter yourself," he said nastily.

Snape stared at him. "That will be ten points for your impertinence, and another ten for not answering my question." He glanced at Neville's potion. "Ah, but I see the gesture is wasted because your potion is already so dismal that I will no doubt to forced to take a full fifty points off of Gryffindor by the time I'm through with you." He smiled nastily and flew on to the next table.

"Slimy git," Neville whispered under his breath, causing his partner, Ron, to chortle and drop a handful of dead beetles onto the floor. They were almost halfway done when a hurried June finally ran into the classroom. She swept by Snape as if he weren't even there and dropped heavily and rather melodramatically into her seat next to Neville.

"And where, may I ask, were you Miss Snape? I trust you have a good reason for striding into class not only late but unprepared."

Neville saw the stubborn fury on her face and shut his eyes. This wasn't going to be pretty. "I was in the bathroom!" she screamed so loudly that half the class jumped and turned to stare at her. She glared at Snape defiantly, practically begging him to push her further.

Snape, however, was bewildered enough at her sudden outburst to think twice before pressing her. He must have decided, on second thought, that he really didn't want to know, so he satisfied himself with taking a full twenty points off of Gryffindor and then leaving for the front of the room before the wrath of little June could disrupt the class further. Neville and Ron glanced uncomfortably at each other. "She's off her rocker," Ron whispered.

Neville snorted. "When isn't she?"

Hermione seemed to have taken June under her wing, helping her through the majority of the potion, making sure she didn't add fairy wings before beetles, which would make the cauldron explode. Both Lavender and Pavarti were conversing intensely in whispers while taking frequent glances at June. "What is with everyone today?" Neville softly asked. Ron shrugged his shoulders, scrunching up his nose as their potion started emitting a smell that strongly resembled rotten eggs, which was definitely not something the book said was supposed to happen.

Five minutes before the end of class, June suddenly gathered her things and started out the door. Snape, who was putting the jar of beetles back onto its place on the wall, deftly shot out a hand to stop her. "Where do you think you are going, Miss Snape? Did you hear the bell ring for the end of class, because I heard no such thing and would be extremely interested how you did."

She shrugged him off. "Let go of me you jerk! I have to use the bathroom!" Without further explanation, she took off down the hall.

There was complete silence in the classroom after June had left. Gryffindors and Slytherins alike cringed at the look of anger and disapproval stamped onto Snape's face. No one would dare talk to him like that - it was uncharacteristic of June to speak to him so harshly even in private. "She's going to be in so much trouble," Neville moaned to himself.

Hermione heard him and smiled. "She'll be fine," she assured him. "He'll understand."

"Understand what?"

Hermione glanced around nervously to make sure no one was listening before continuing. "June started her period this morning."

Ron, who had heard the exchange, turned beet red. "That's disgusting! I didn't want to know that!" he squawked. Everyone in the classroom turned their heads towards him. Snape looked like he was about to sever Ron's head from his shoulders out of pure spite when, thankfully, the bell rang and the entire class ran out into the hall before he could capture and kill anyone.

"I mean, really," Ron continued his diatribe on their way to DADA. "It doesn't give her any right to go around acting like a complete maniac. Why should it be fair that girls have the right to go completely berserk every month?"

"Why should it be fair that girls have to have periods?" Hermione countered. "It's damned annoying and inconvenient. I'd like to see you try it!"

"This is so disgusting - I can't believe you're trying to talk to me about periods!" He said the word as if it were bitter clay. A group of first year girls passing gave Ron a look of pure bewilderment. "I don't want to hear anymore!" He sped up to catch Harry, who was walking farther down the corridor from them.

"I'm glad to see that Ginny is being so supportive," Neville said sarcastically, remembering how she was cracking up in the common room. "She couldn't stop laughing this morning."

Hermione rolled her eyes. "Well, June was being a bit silly."

"Can I ask you a question?"

"Sure."

"Whatever happened to the soap?"

Hermione gave him an indecipherable look and disappeared into Professor Delacour's classroom without answering.

"Girls," Neville muttered under his breath, following a second behind her. It was going to be a long day.

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Eliza looked into the mirror. There were orange swirls in the upper right- hand corner and a pattern of black dots around the middle that resembled a dragon. She watched the dragon fly around in slow, lazy circles, around her parents' faces. She blinked. What were her parents doing in the mirror? They were supposed to be dead. Were they really trapped in a mirror? Were they asking her to save them?

As suddenly as they had appeared, they were gone. Of course, they're not real, she told herself firmly. They were dead - she knew because she had seen their bodies, or at least what was left of them, which was a small consolation at best but better than nothing. She turned her attention to herself. She had heard Harry describe his experiences at coming into his Seeing powers, his stories of how the world fragmented so that he was constantly seeing the world as if through a broken mirror. Was the same thing happening to her? She stared intently at the blond girl in front of her. She watched her blond hair grow long and dark and fall out and then become normal again.

A toilet flushed behind her and she turned to see June come out of the stall. She looked at Eliza uncertainly. "Are you okay? You've been standing there ever since I came in. Is everything alright?"

"I don't know," Eliza said honestly. "Everything's changing."

June hesitated before saying, "You know you've been - I don't know, just different lately. You've lost a lot of weight, and you don't look like you've been sleeping much. All you do all day is study and read. You never go outside or talk to anybody anymore. Why do you read so much?"

"Maybe I found a really good book." She turned and began to re-examine her image again. Her mirror self smiled and slowly turned green. "Do you see that too?" she asked June.

"See what?"

"Nothing." She continued to look into the mirror.

June made a small noise, clearing her throat. "Are you still - I mean, is this about your parents? You could get help. . ."

Eliza shook her head firmly. People like June would probably benefit from therapy, but she couldn't see herself ever taking the same route. "It's not that at all, just. . . I have these horrible dreams all the time, and everyone in them is dying and bloody, and sometimes I see things."

"See things?"

"I'll just be walking down the hall and talking to someone and suddenly I'll see different colors or blank spaces where I can't see anything at all. . ." She suddenly felt relieved. She had been holding this growing horror inside herself for a few weeks now and could no longer ignore it. June was the perfect person to tell. She would understand. She would know what to do.

June indeed nodded her head and immediately decided, "Let's go see Florean."

-------------------------------------------

Florean rubbed his chin thoughfully. Eliza's large hazel-green eyes followed his every movement. He had listened to her story, the entirety of it, first with fascination, then with a growing uncertainty, and now with concern. He couldn't comprehend how she had been through so much at such a young age. What ever happened to normal childhoods, he wondered. Did they ever really exist or were they a figment of society's imagination? Life had not been nice to any of the students he had come to care about: Harry, June, Neville, and now Eliza. Of course, when Florean was a teenager there were the beginnings of the looming threat of Lord Voldemort. I suppose no one lies unscathed by life, he decided. He wished it could be otherwise.

Eliza broke the silence following her story first. "Do you think I'm - do you think these things I'm seeing might be visions?" She tried to keep her voice calm and objective, but Florean could see the yearning in her eyes. It was her dream to become proficient in Divination, to be a Seer, but she was convinced it wasn't in her nature and that she was therefore unworthy. He hated to have this happen to her.

"No, Eliza." He took a deep breath and rubbed his temples with his long, thin fingers. He couldn't help thinking he was missing something from the equation, something vital. There was something linking all of these strange events at Hogwarts - and that something had to do with what Eliza was experiencing. Florean was as sure of it as he was sure as anything - the feeling was instinctually buried deep in his gut. But he couldn't make heads or tails of it. He wondered if Eliza was leaving something out. There had to be a reason. There was always a reason. "Those were hallucinations."

Eliza was silent for almost two minutes before responding quietly. "Oh."

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June was, if possible, even more preoccupied during dinner than she had been all morning and afternoon. She had spent the afternoon inside, claiming that her stomach hurt too much to run. Neville had no idea what she was talking about, but Hermione and Ginny had made sympathetic noises and hurried her up to their room, so he decided not to ask. He was a bit preoccupied himself over what Llian had said to him that afternoon.

Neville had gone dressed and ready to run with Llian, Harry, Cho, Dennis, Collin, and a few others who had been coerced into running with the Snapes, only to have Llian pull him aside as everyone was stretching.

"You're going to have to sit this one out," Llian had told him.

Neville was confused. "Why?" Then he realized why, and the betrayal spread through him so violently he felt nauseous. "You mean you'll be going too fast for slow, fat Neville to keep up, so you'd rather I stayed here?"

Neville instantly regretted his words when he saw the hurt on Llian's face. But Llian continued, determined. "No, Neville, you're going to sit this one out because you have to learn from the beginning to take care of yourself so that it becomes habit."

Neville was at a loss. "But - but I'm ready for this! I only ran four miles yesterday. It's time for another long run."

Llian shook his head. "I'm not going to let you run again until you start eating correctly."

Neville felt his stomach drop to his knees. Spurred on by his drastic weight loss from healthier eating and running combined, Neville had restricted his diet even more. He had eaten one piece of toast for breakfast, and a roll during lunch. He felt that after a few weeks on this diet he'd be down to a weight in a "normal" range in no time. "Look, I'm not running competitively like you guys are - I'm just jogging to loose weight, and I'm not going to loose weight by eating three full meals a day."

Llian narrowed his eyes. "Neville, you can't run and be on a diet this strict. It's one or the other, but you can't have it both ways. You're simply not eating enough calories to keep on running anymore. You're going to have to decide which is more important to you."

Neville had thought all afternoon and during dinner, where he allowed himself no more than a small serving of corn just out of spite. He was so busy thinking that he didn't notice that June was also quite reserved. It was later in the common room, when June burst into tears while translating out of her Ancient Runes textbook, that Neville noticed something was wrong. "June, are you PMSing again?" Ginny looked up from her own Ancient Runes text to hear June's reply.

She shook her head. "PMS means pre-menstrual syndrome, or something like that. Note the prefix -pre, meaning before. I am not currently pre- menstruating, since I'm in the process of menstruation." June knew how much talk like this grossed Neville out, so she delighted in torturing him. "I'm worried about Eliza. She's been having psychotic symptoms: hallucinations, hearing voices, having large blank spaces of time where she can't remember what she was doing."

Neville leaned forward concerned. "That sounds really serious. I never would have known anything was wrong - I see her reading all the time in the library, usually that favorite book of hers."

"What favorite?" June asked distractedly, trying to translate runes, worry about Eliza, and talk with Neville at the same time.

"That black one with the purple band. She's always reading it. Do you think she's gone nuts from reading so much?"

June gave Neville a look. "In normal circumstances it would make a great horror novel, but right now that's not very funny Neville."

"Sorry." He fidgeted with his wristwatch. "Has Eliza talked to anyone?"

"We went to see Florean together. He deals with a lot of these kinds of symptoms that come with visions and prophecies. I think they've gone to see Professor Dumbledore to see what the best course of action is." She paused to scratch her knee. "I think it's a good sign that she was able to tell us. Some never tell anyone. . ." She trailed off.

Llian choose that moment to enter the Gryffindor common room with Harry. "Hey you Hufflepuff traitor!" Dean called out good-naturedly. "Enemies aren't allowed on home turf!" Half of the people in the common room smiled. Llian was well-known for his blatant disregard of house customs. It wasn't uncommon to see him sitting with the Slytherins at dinner or hanging out with the Ravenclaws after class was over or walking through the Gryffindor common room to study with June and Neville. He plopped down between Neville and June. Harry brought a chair over from the fireplace. Llian jumped straight to the point. "Have you seen Eliza after you talked with her this afternoon?" June shook her head. "I feel really horrible," Llian admitted. "I mean, she's in my house, I see her practically everyday - I should have noticed that something was wrong with her. She's been having these things bug here ever since Halloween. I should have been there for her." He looked extremely down-hearted. If Neville didn't already know that Llian was involved with Cho he would have thought that he was falling for Eliza.

June didn't respond, but Harry did. "You can't blame yourself for the past. All we can do now is try to help her through this."

"She'll be staying at Hogwarts, won't she?" Llian asked anxiously.

"If that's what's best for her," said June, her lips pursed. "Of course, you all know what I recommend." They nodded. Having been institutionalized several times, June would never recommend the same for someone like Eliza. "At least if her face breaks out she can use some of your soap." Neville jerked his head up. "Sorry, random thought."

"While we're on that random thought," interjected Ginny, who was Eliza's best friend and not especially pleased to be discussing the Hufflepuff behind her back, "maybe you can tell me where you got it. I only used it twice today and my skin's already improved! That's some hard-core facial cleanser!"

Llian shifted uncomfortably in his seat. "Well, I didn't really get it anywhere. I made it."

Ginny clapped her hands and leaned across the couch to hug Llian. Harry looked a bit annoyed at this. "That is so cool - you should see about opening up a joke shop with Fred and George."

"Nah," he said, embarrassed. "They're already partners. They don't need a third leg."

"How much do you charge for the soap?" Ginny asked.

"Charge? Oh, no - I wasn't going to sell them. I have some extra if you want it. It's just one of my side projects; I like to experiment with potions, so I decided to try to make something useful."

"You could make a living at it. Not just soap, whatever you want. I mean, geez, if you're good enough to make your own potions, you could probably do whatever you want."

Llian leaned back and settled his arm on June's shoulder. "Yeah, well, I'll think about it after I become a professional Quidditch player." They all laughed. As Llian was already pretty good, it wouldn't be much of a reach for him.

"Gosh, life is so tough when you're good at everything," June said ruefully. "Quidditch, history, potions. . .Llian!" She sat straight up, flinging his arm off.

"What?"

"You make up your own potions?"

"Uh-huh."

"From scratch?"

"Pretty much."

She looked at him appraisingly. "You're a Maker," she accused him. "All this time you've been holding out on me."

Llian's face softened thoughtfully. "I guess I am," he said finally.

"What's more, you have Volari blood. You could be a Haran, too!"

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A/N: Ok, there was a bit of insanity and despair, but all in all it was cheerful. BTW, feel free to ask me any questions you may have about the last three chapters - I know they were a bit confusing even to me.


	38. Transformations and Happy Surprises

(A/N: After these next few "light" chapters, I will continue to entertain you with more of my dark goriness. The ratings will therefore be very much moved to M - be scared, be anxious, be excited. . .but be prepared. Bwah, ha, ha. . .) 

39. Transformations and Happy Surprises

Neville groaned inwardly into the chilly morning air and snuggled farther under the blankets once he had disabled the time charm that awoke him at 6 a.m. He dreaded today for more reasons than the six mile run that awaited him. After holding out as long as he could (only two days), Neville had realized that his early morning runs with the Snapes had become more important to him than his obsession to lose weight. He was now far enough under 200 pounds to breathe easier, despite the fact that lately his weight had been stable. June claimed it was because as he lost fat he was gaining muscle. He didn't know if it were true or not but he had found he couldn't stand another day of not running - besides, he had been getting pretty hungry and was drowsy in all his classes. It was strange that he was more tired when he didn't run. June certainly was pleased to see him rejoin their running group.

The thought of June made him retreat even farther under the covers. The marathon was the Saturday after next and June would no doubt spend the entire run describing her plans and racing strategies for an event her father wouldn't let her attend. She was driving Neville absolutely mad. Of course, he did have to cut her some slack: within the space of two weeks she had had her boyfriend attempt to murder her father, discovered that everything she thought she knew about herself was a lie, recalled her entire dismal past life, and started her period. The thought of the last occurrence made him laugh and he finally pushed away the covers and lumbered across the room and down the stairs to the bathroom. He'd rather wake on his own - it had been his misfortune to discover that the Snapes were extremely unique in inventing personalized wake-up calls for those who attempted to sleep through morning runs.

He stared at himself in the bathroom mirror for a long time. Although there were still small rolls of fats around his waist, his stomach no longer hung considerably over the waist of his pants. He actually looked semi-normal, an idea that last year would have been inconceivable. It even looked like his abs were in the process of becoming a six-pack, at least if he stepped back into the shadows and squinted heavily. He flexed his arm and was pleased to note that the muscle to fat ratio was in his favor. All those pushups and crazy weight training was paying off. He examined his rounded face carefully, searching for a remote sign of the handsomeness that had characterized his father before. . .

He looked considerably older, he found, as he peered even closer at his reflection. Afterall, today was his birthday - and it promised to be the worst day of his life.

Today was the day he had to publicly apologize to Professor Snape for wrongfully accusing him of Trevor's death. All this despite the fact that he was still in mourning for Trevor. Damn Snape! 'Maybe the git will drop dead,' he thought gleefully. It would solve a lot of problems and make school more enjoyable. But then he thought of June's horrified face and immediately felt ashamed. Snape deserved to be beaten, starved, and cursed with the Cruciatus, but he didn't deserve to die. He closed his eyes and tried to convince himself of this. It was going to be a long day.

Neville pushed away from Harry and Hermione as they started to enter the Great Hall for breakfast. "Gotta pee," he lied. The thought of facing Snape was suddenly unbearable. He started down the west corridor to avoid running into June, only to find himself face to face with Eliza and Llian.

"Where are you going?" Llian asked. He knew about Neville's Snape issues.

"Bathroom," Neville answered quickly.

"The bathroom's back that way," Llian said, pointing over Neville's shoulder. He didn't move. "Come on, buddy, it won't be that bad once you get it over with. Papa isn't any more evil than I am." This wasn't much assurance. Llian grabbed his arm and began the arduous process of dragging Neville to breakfast, where fate waited to mock him. 'I love being humiliated,' Neville thought. 'I should see about making it a career.'

They turned the corner to find a group of students gathered around Draco, who lay moaning and twitching on the floor. Several of the younger Slytherins were wailing in fright.

"What's wrong with him?" Pansy demanded. She looked around frantically but no one could answer her. "He just suddenly dropped to the ground! Oh, Merlin, Draco? Draco!" She shook him roughly, but he only snarled at her and continued shaking violently, clutching his head miserably with his clenched hands. "Why is he doing this?" she shrieked.

"Because I cursed the bastard!" a harsh, cruel voice announced. Everyone turned to find Llian standing at the end of the hallway, looking positively sinister with his wand outstretched towards Draco. Eliza and Neville stared at him in shock. "It will take a while to wear off. You may have to take him to the hospital wing." He sneered and put away his wand, shrugging as if it were all inconsequential.

All the noise in the hall had attracted the attention of the teachers. They now flowed through the doorway. Professor Snape pushed back the Slytherins gathered around Draco. "Give him room to breathe. Don't touch him!" he growled.

"That bloody fool cursed him!" screamed Pansy, spitting with rage as she pointed towards Llian. Snape's head snapped up and he nodded. "You three can come with me," he demanded of Llian, Eliza, and Neville. Neville was about to protest, but pushing Snape in his current mood wasn't a very smart thing to do. "Everyone else proceed to breakfast - including you, Miss Parkinson!" Several more students ran out into the hall and were quickly ushered back in by Fleur, Bill Weasley, and Florean. Several students slipped through the crowd going back in to breakfast. Hermione, who had her hands clamped over her mouth, inched forward behind Snape's shoulder; she didn't look surprised, just worried. June moved immediately to Snape's side. Oliver, who sat terrified on her shoulder, his sharp claws digging into her shirt, scurried away when she approached Draco. He launched himself at Neville and climbed up the length of his robes before setting, trembling in fear, on his head. The rest of the teachers forced the children away as June and Llian, under Snape's direction, each grabbed one of Draco's arms and staggered down the hall with him in between them. He continued to mutter and froth at the mouth.

They turned a corner, and after a quick glance to make sure no one was watching, Snape ushered them down the steep, slippery staircase towards the dungeons.

"You didn't curse him!" Neville accused Llian. "You didn't even have your wand out."

"Of course Llian didn't curse him!" Hermione exclaimed, who was following right behind Neville. "Look at his eyes." He did so to find that they were glowing an animal-like red. "He's coming into his Veela powers. That's why he's in so much pain - he's been trying to stop himself from attacking his friends."

"How did you know?"

Hermione looked flustered. "Well, with Professor Delacour around and...well, I just read about it, that's how. I'm sure June and Llian can tell us it's similar to the Volari?"

Llian nodded. "I remember that it was painful; I was so confused I accidentally hurt my friends because I lashed out in pain. So you didn't think I was the culprit even for a second?" he teased.

"Nope. Besides," Hermione continued, "if you had actually cursed him it would have to be pretty powerful to last so long, and Llian would have used his Volari magic - so he wouldn't have needed his wand."

"That's right, Volari don't use wands, do they?" Eliza said. But June has a wand, Neville thought. She brought it with her to every class.

"I also know that Llian didn't curse Draco because if he had he would have either done it openly in the first place, or else done it in total secrecy and not be stupid enough to announce it to the world afterwards."

Llian grinned sheepishly. "She speaks the truth," he admitted. Despite his honesty and openness, Llian was perfectly capable of being as devious as a Slytherin when he thought he was acting on the best intentions. Neville remembered the story of how the young Snape tried to outwit the sorting hat; Llian had revealed the entire story in detail once while in stupor during a three hour run in the middle of a hot afternoon when they had run out of water after thirty minutes.

"So why is it," Neville asked incredulously, "that Hermione knows the answer to everything?"

"Maybe she's actually one of a set of quintuplets, and they switch off depending on who knows what," June suggested.

Malfoy gave another moan, reminding them of their situation. They had reached the dungeons finally.

"What do we do now?" Eliza asked, always the pragmatist.

"First, we get him away from humans," Snape answered. He opened a door to expose the dark interior of a large, circular dungeon. "You three in here," he commanded. Llian and June obligingly pulled Draco inside, who was starting to grow long claws and what looked like a kind of beak. His head rolled from side to side and he struggled to keep his sanity in check for one minute longer. "I'll place a ward on the door so that it can only be opened from the outside. I'll return shortly." He set up the wards quickly, heaping advanced magic onto the heavy wood and iron door with a light flick of his wand. "You three come with me," he said to Neville, Eliza, and Hermione. "I have a potion to prepare. You are mostly ridiculously dismal potions students, but your help will cut the preparing time in half."

They followed him into his personal quarters, where his real lab was. It was there that they would find the illegal ingredients necessary for most vampire potions.

He set them to work immediately: Eliza measuring out the water and phoenix tears, Neville pulverizing the liverworts into a mash, Hermione counting the dragon scales. Snape fluttered throughout the potions lab setting up various apparatus with a frenzied grace that made his motions resemble a post-modern dance. Dumbledore poked his head in five minutes later.

"Is he contained?" the headmaster asked.

Snape nodded curtly, not looking up from the cauldron. "It would probably be best to have Poppy set up curtains around a bed in the hospital wing to give the impression to the students that he is recovering there. Let it be known that Mr. Malfoy will be receiving no visitors for the rest of the day. He is with June and Llian in the Keep. I will leave Llian with him for the day - the students will think he is being punished so his absence won't be questioned."

Dumbledore nodded, not disputing the younger man's directions. He would know best how to handle the situation, being a vampire himself. "I will see that his teachers excuse him for the day." He glanced at the three students. "I thank all of you for helping Professor Snape." He started to leave but ducked back in the door. "Eliza, would you care to join me for tea this afternoon after your last class?"

Eliza peered out at him for a second from behind the curtain of blond hair that fell in her face as she added blood to the potion before finally smiling sweetly and saying, "I would like that very much, Headmaster."

He turned to leave. Neville didn't like the way Eliza's eyes burned into Dumbledore's back. He glanced at Hermione to see if she noticed anything unusual, but she was too upset to focus on more than the dragon scales in front of her. Oliver had jumped down onto the table and kept trying to poke his pink head in the scales, forcing Hermione to continually push him away.

"Shouldn't we notify his dad?" Neville said suddenly. "Would he be able to help?"

Everyone in the room paused. Snape answered, "Do you actually use you brain, Mr. Longbottom, or does it just sit in your head for balance - except it doesn't do that very well neither." He viciously cut up the root in front of him. "Mr. Malfoy would no doubt be extremely displeased with his son drawing attention to his unnatural condition. His mother would be better suited for such things, and contacting her would no doubt inadvertently notify his father as well."

Neville noticed that Hermione paled at Snape's words. She and _Draco_ were all chummy now, Neville recalled. He supposed that Hermione didn't know everything after all.

Snape finished the potion less than ten minutes later and sent the three students on their way. There was still enough time to grab a piece of toast or half a bagel before going to class. Neville left heartened that he wouldn't have to face Snape. Dumbledore was sure to have forgotten. Both Eliza and Hermione were subdued and unusually pale on the way back up to the Great Hall, but Neville was too deep in thought to notice.

Even though he knew better than to hope otherwise, Neville was still disappointed when Snape arrived on time for fifth year potions later that morning. The potions professor paced back and forth while calling roll, as if debating with himself. He started to prepare the table in front of the class to demonstrate a particularly nasty type of healing potion. He put the cauldron down on one side of the table and then moved it to the other. It was so uncharacteristic of him to let his emotions show through the mask he hid behind, that the students started muttering amongst themselves until he called for silence. Everyone knew he was probably fretting over the fact that his son had just cursed his favorite pupil.

He began to explain in detail the methods and materials required for the new potion. Neville found his attention begin to wane as the instructions became more and more complex. As his vision blurred, a new image replaced the sneering Snape: himself, running. He saw his stride, smooth and efficient, his newly slimmed arms pumping steadily. He felt the cold wind bite through his hair, the tickling of the dry air in his lungs. He imagined himself finishing the end of the marathon all by himself, even in front of June, sprinting up the last hill, his heavy feet pounding into the pavement while the swarms of crowds cheered from the side of the road.

His reveries were interrupted by Snape's sarcastic voice. "You do not want to add the ermine hairs before the wyvern claws, as Mr. Longbottom will undoubtedly do, or this may happen." Snape threw a pinch of white fur into the cauldron and a cloud of thick blue-gray smoke erupted from it. Oliver, who had moved from Neville's shoulder back to June's, squeaked in fright and hid in the depths of June's bookbag. Snape looked down into the cauldron and suddenly put on a look of mock-surprise. "And what is this?" he asked. The students looked at each other nervously. What the hell was he doing?

Then he reached into the cauldron. . .and pulled out a small, red squirrel. It was just a baby, but it was missing a back leg and its paws seemed to be slightly deformed. The most disturbing thing about it was that there was a pink bow wrapped around its neck. Snape extracted a slip of paper from the bow, looking confused. Neville could swear though that the professor was trying his hardest not to burst into maniacal laughter (because obviously any laughter coming from Snape's lips would have to be maniacal). Snape smoothed the crumpled paper and began reading:

"My name is Lacy. I can no longer live in the Forbidden Forest and would like to find a home at Hogwarts. I would appreciate it if Neville Longbottom would look after me. I am extremely sorry for the death of his previous pet, Trevor. Perhaps we can be friends."

Snape wrinkled his nose in distaste at the last bit. He looked across the room at Neville. "Well?" he snarled. Neville blinked. "Are you going to come take your stupid squirrel or should I chuck it out the window?" June pushed Neville up to his feet. He stumbled down to the front of the classroom and squinted down at the squirrel. It must have been in some kind of accident. It backed away from him at first, but after he let her smell his steady hand she didn't squirm too much when he picked her up. He held her up to his face at looked at her small black, yellow flecked eyes. He wrinkled up her nose and he couldn't help giggling. He loved squirrels.

"May I continue with my class, Longbottom, or will you be requiring more of my time?" Snape asked sarcastically. Neville started to protest when Snape cut him off, "Five points from Gryffindor for not obeying orders directly." He continued lecturing as if nothing had even happened as Neville made his way back to a beaming June.

"You wrote that note," he accused. Neville held the small baby in his lap. They watched Oliver poke his head out from his hiding place and watch Lacy curiously.

She looked surprised, then suspicious. "How would you know what I did or didn't write?" Oliver started to climb up the chair.

He snorted and rolled his eyes. "It had your cute qualities written all over it. 'Perhaps we can be friends'. Hmpph!"

She frowned. "I'm not 'cute'. You love squirrels, and this poor one's just a baby and it got attacked by a werewolf and it'll die on its own!" Oliver sat in Neville's lap and started to sniff Lacy. The red of her fur clashed with the pink of his.

"Whu- you mean she's part werewolf?" Lacy let out a small yip and Oliver scurried away again.

"Well, technically. . ." She stopped trying to explain immediately when she saw his pained expression. "Look, she's the sweetest thing ever and you're going to keep her and that's that!"

"It seems so soon after Trevor. . . I don't know if I can. I don't know how to take care of squirrels. What do they eat?"

"Uh, grass? Wait, no - that's cows. Acorns, huh? Maybe it'll even go for a spot of tea," June joked. "Oh, wait, this one's different - I think it'll only be satisfied with human flesh."

"You're hopeless," Neville exclaimed. "And it is a she, and her name is Lacy, remember? Snape must have named her, because if you had her name would be something stupid like Popkin. And how in the hell did you coerce Snape into being the one to give him to me?"

June shrugged. "Actually, he was the one who found it. Her. It was his idea to give it to you in the first place."

"WHAT?"

Everyone in the room turned to look at Neville. Lacy started squirming frantically, disturbed by his random outburst. "Longbottom, I will NOT have you continue to disrupt my class. That will be twenty points from Gryffindor. I've had enough! Please remove yourself and your things from this classroom."

Neville was only too glad to pack his schoolbag and leave the worst class ever known to wizard-kind. He slipped Lacy into his chest pocket and strode defiantly to the door. He turned at the doorway to address Snape. "Thank you for Lacy. It was very considerate of you to think of me. I'm sure we will be friends." He put on his largest, most sickeningly sweet smile and fled from the classroom snickering softly before Snape could retaliate with his fury.

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Eliza entered the bathroom. She was alone. It was almost time. A few short weeks. She settled in front of the mirror again, watching intensely for what messages it would reveal. Myrtle moaned softly in the background. Eliza watched the colors swirl black and red, and watched the flames leap from reflection to reflection. It was her special time; she would tell no one. These secrets were for her understanding alone.

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"Neville, we have to decide what to run!" June exclaimed during dinner, spilling some water from her goblet on poor Lacy, who was curled up contently in the middle of the table in Neville's empty salad bowl. Neville stifled a groan. She was starting again.

"I don't really want to run," he said quickly. "I'm not ready yet."

June pouted. "But it would be a shame not to since I finally convinced Papa to let us go." Neville nearly choked on the lima beans he was stuffing into his mouth. "We'll have to use different names, just incase, but as long as Papa comes with us to chaperone we can go! Hurray for marathons!"

"You can't be seriously thinking about doing the entire thing?"

June winked at him. "I'm kidding. Let's do the half, just me and you? It'll be fun."

"Fun," he muttered to himself. Was he, Neville Longbottom, truly considering such an impossible feat? How could he even expect to finish? Everyone else would have already left by the time he was only half way through. Was he really willing to embarrass himself so thoroughly? Did he even really want to do this? "Yes, I think I'd like that. Let's do it!"

June let out a whoop and hugged Neville fiercely. "Eliza, Harry, Llian, and Cho are going to run the relay. I was hoping you'd run with me. We're gonna rock! Hurray for half-marathons!"

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A/N: My friend, CastleRock claims that I am not Slytherin, as I have been boasting. I must say I dissent. Aren't my stories all bloody and dark? Aren't I completely obsessed with Snape? Surely everyone else agrees that I am Slytherin at heart? I will continue to think so. . . I will continue to think of myself as an evil, devious Slytherin (okay, I completely lack of ambition of any type, but the evilness make up for it, right?). CastleRock is just jealous, because she is an unworthy Ravenclaw. She even dared to insult me further by saying I was not evil, but rather "cute". How dare she? I will show you my true evilness, yes, just wait and see what happens to Eliza (the character based on CastleRock) now.heh, heh, heh.

Next chapter: am I really going to make poor Neville run a half-marathon? It'll be tons of fun and have absolutely nothing to do with the main story. So be excited! And read it!


	39. HalfMarathon

40. Half-Marathons 

"Run, run, run! We're gonna run, run run! It's so much fun, fun, fun! When we all run, run, run!" June sang. No one commented, instead concentrating on stretching and avoiding each other's eyes, not wanting to be the first to scream that they would rather be anywhere else but in this small Muggle town ready to tackle a snow-ridden race.

Neville wiped the snow out of his eyes and quickly surveyed the group. Harry and Eliza seemed glad to have something better to do than sit around the Hogwarts castle for the few days of Christmas break that had already passed, but neither was thrilled with the mass of flurries that the wind whipped around them. Eliza looked especially ill; she was bundled up in at least five different layers and still complaining about the cold. The Weasleys (Ginny, Ron, Fred, and George) had signed up for a relay together. They had claimed they could win, too, despite the fact that Gred and Forge had barely run a day in their lives; although all the training Ginny had put in could well make up for their lack of it. It had pretty much been a last minute decision on the twin's part. They seemed less pleased with the decision when they realized it meant they had to get up to run six miles in the cold when most students would be happily celebrating the holidays by sleeping in. The twins were unnaturally grumpy. Fred looked like he was ready to strangle June if she tried to sing again.

Neville could tell that Cho was unhappy too, but at least she had the grace to pretend excitement for Llian's sake. The two Snapes seemed the only two who were truly pleased. Llian, unaffected as ever by the weather, was wearing nothing more than shorts and a long sleeved shirt under his sweats. Neville shivered, remembering the chilly dungeons that Snape resided in and figuring it had to be in his blood. June was so excited that the cold likewise had no effect on her either. Underneath her jacket and running pants she had nothing on but a flimsy pale blue t-shirt and pair of red shorts with a white stripe on both hip. Neville knew this because she had enthusiastically pulled down her sweats enough to proudly show the group her craziness. Even Neville was too frozen stiff and weary to feign interest.

Llian was leading the stretching, as he always did, after they had wearily trudged through the snow on the side of the road in an attempt at a jogging warm-up. The jogging soon became abandoned when half the group found themselves slipping off the side of the road and down into the ditch. The race being held in a largely rural location (Neville had no idea how June had found out about it or why she had become enamored of it), their small group of ten very likely outnumbered the race officials.

They finished stretching and wished each other luck as their split up. While Neville, June, Ginny, and Eliza headed for the starting line, the rest got on the rickety bus that would take them to their relay exchange zones. Ginny and Eliza were running the first legs of their so-called "Weasley" and "Hogwarts" team. Six miles later they would hand off to Fred and Cho, who six miles later would hand off to George and Llian. Ron and Harry were running the last legs in hope that they would be running together. Harry had been training longer, had speed, and was the more aggressive runner, but Ron could travel the same distance in one step that Harry could go in two or three.

"Go and win!" June commanded as they parted. "For it will bring you glory . . . and a free t-shirt!" Neville thought, from the resigned look on everyone's face, that she should have rephrased it, "Go and finish! For then you may go back inside where it is above zero degrees. . .and not freeze your ass off!"

There were only about two hundred people milling around the starting line - a small amount for a marathon. Eliza and Ginny were chattering nervously, but June continued to stretch and hum happily, effectively ignoring him. His attention was drawn by two voices deep in discussion next to him.

"But I love Amy Tan! You just don't have good taste in books," a high voice said behind him.

"Excuse me?" a second voice demanded mockingly.

"You read Philip K. Dick!"

"LOOK! Philip K. Dick is God. And you read Terry Brooks, so you really have no room to talk, slut."

Neville turned to find two college-aged girls standing behind him. The first one was about June's height, with dark brown hair that frizzed on top; the second was taller and had blond hair that was more yellow that Eliza's white hair, and hazel-green eyes. "You read Terry Brooks?" he asked the blond.

She snorted. "No, but she does," she said, pointing to her friend.

"My girlfriend loves Terry Brooks," Neville said, shifting from foot to foot nervously. He hoped they didn't think he was a complete dork for interrupting their conversation. "Hey June!" She looked up. "Haven't you met him before?"

June nodded. The dark haired girl practically jumped on top of June. "You've met him! Awesome! Lisa here got a book of his signed for me, but she couldn't really appreciate the experience - actually I think that's what convinced her that she didn't like his writing anymore."

"Why should I?" Lisa demanded. "The bastard was just so smug. How can you stand to read him?"

"I went to a book signing of his in Santa Fe," June said.

"What's your favorite book?" the dark haired girl demanded.

"Now, now, Kristi. Don't go scarin' the youngun's," Lisa said, smiling at her friend's enthusiasm.

"I really liked Running With the Demon," June offered. Kristi let out a small shriek of happiness and danced around in a circle. An official blew a whistle and announced that there would be less than five minutes before the start.

Neville and his friends from Hogwarts stripped of their sweats, leaving them in the care of Professor McGonagall. She, along with Madame Hooch and Professor Snape, had come from Hogwarts to "cheer" them on, which Neville suspected was really a kind of guard against danger. He would bet that there were probably more teachers hiding out around the race that hadn't come with the Snapes, Harry, and Eliza on the Knight Bus.

They jumped up and down, trying to keep the circulation flowing in their legs. Neville had on long running tights and a turtle neck underneath his two shirts, but June looked almost blue in her shorts. At least she had on gloves and a hat so her hands and head wouldn't fall off. Before they knew it a race official was talking to the crowd, too far away for them to hear, and then a shot went off and the race was started.

June started trying to keep up with Ginny and Eliza, who took off practically sprinting, but Neville had to grab her arm and remind her that they were running twice the distance that the younger girls were. Neville continued to slow down further, hoping June would follow his lead. She was annoyed at first, but finally relented and took on his slower, saner pace. The two older Weasley brothers, Charlie and Billy, were waving and cheering from the side of the road. The entire Weasley and Longbottom family had come, much to the students dismay, as well as Cho's parents. Neville spied his Uncle Bertie over to the left and quickly hid behind the girl in front of him. She turned around to look at him suspiciously. It was Lisa.

"I'm sorry," he apologized. "I was trying to hide from my uncle. I've only been running for a couple months and my family seems to think I belong at the butt end of their jokes." He snorted bitterly yes, snorts can indeed be bitter.

She grinned. "That's okay. Do you and your friend run cross country at school?"

"No," June answered while Neville tried to understand what she was asking. "We don't run on a team - we just run on our own with a group of other kids at our school."

"That's so cute," Kristi said. "Lisa and I ran cross country and track for four years at our high school. Didn't make us any faster, but it was fun!"

Lisa rolled her eyes. "Yes the pain was worth it," she said sarcastically.

"It was a good kind of pain," added Kristi. They shared a mischievous grin.

"Where are you two from? Are you doing the whole marathon?" June asked.

"Hell no!" Lisa exclaimed. "We're both running the half-marathon."

"But it would be fun, though," Kristi added. Lisa gave her a doubtful look. "Well, maybe some other time. . . We're both from America. Lisa's majoring in English literature, so she was studying abroad in London. I'm just here wasting money and trying to make her life miserable."

"You're succeeding. Jesus it's freezing! I haven't been this cold since you turned on the air conditioner in the middle of winter the night before the state meet our sophomore year," Lisa complained. Kristi stuck out her tongue. Lisa had on a turtle neck and a sweater, and a heavy winter coat on top of it all. Kristi was wearing shorts.

"We're both running the half-marathon, too," Neville offered. "My name's Neville, and this is June."

"Neville. . .that's the name of a character in a book I like," Kristi commented. "It's also the name of Archibald Craven's evil brother in The Secret Garden. Are you secretly in love with a woman named Lily who instead of falling for you eloped with a hunchback?"

Neville shook his head. "Er, so you read a lot?"

June, Kristi, and Lisa talked as if they had been friends their entire lives. Neville found himself starting to drift away. He kept on looking for the first mile marker and finally tapped a man on the shoulder to ask him.

"First time, eh?" the old man cackled. "We've already passed it. If you were around me you're at a nine minute mile pace."

Neville thanked the man. He should probably slow down - it was way too fast for him to keep up for thirteen miles. He started to go over his textbooks in his head, chanting the various charms they had just recently learned, imagining the motion his wand hand would make. Wands.

He slowed down a bit and the three chattering girls caught him again. He waited until Lisa and Kristi became engaged in a conversation about publishing companies and slipped between two men in their fifties to run next to June. Her cheeks were bright pink on her pale face, and her lips already chapped. The snow had stopped momentarily, but Neville was so used to the cold already that he didn't care much.

"Tell me about your wand."

June looked up, dazed. "What?"

"Your wand. I don't understand. Everyone's told me that Volari don't use wands, but the last time Hermione said that and I mentioned that you had one, she just shook her head at me. And you use yours during class. Why did the most powerful wand in existence suddenly jump into your hands?"

She watched a kid who couldn't be any older than ten pass them before answering. "Maybe it was lonely."

"I'm serious."

"So am I. All the former owners . . .d'ya know why they died? The wand never wanted to be used. It didn't want to be saved so someone could use it. And it wasn't drawn to people who specialized in wandless magic so they could become more proficient with a wand."

"What are you saying?"

She waited until they had made their way to the top of the next hill before answering. "Oh, Neville - didn't you listen to anything I've been telling you? Look at it from the wand's point of view. You're a wand, and everyone's trying to use you to become more powerful. What're'ya going to think?"

Neville considered it. "I'd be mad, I guess. Maybe I'd be happier with a user who understood me."

"That's just it. It doesn't want a user."

"But what about you?"

"What about me?"

He stared at her blankly for a few seconds before dropping his mouth in astonishment. "Bully. . .so you never use, ever?" She shook her head. "But, in class?. . ."

She laughed. "If I can do wandless magic without a wand, surely I can do it while holding a wand in my hand, or a donut, or anything for that matter."

"But what does the wand want? Does it want to be alive? Truly alive? Goddamn, this is so freaking scary - I hate talking about it like it's a. . .a thing."

She sighed. "It doesn't want to live." She moved back over towards Lisa and Kristi.

"What do you mean it does - June?" He couldn't ask anymore because she quickly started talking to the two college students again.

Neville tried, but he couldn't make himself that interested in the conversation. He looked ahead and saw woman with a long dark ponytail wearing a long, green shirt over black running tights. 'Green for Slytherin,' he thought insanely. 'I'll show the bastard.' He increased his pace, increasing the cloud of breath that swarmed around his head and pulled up next to her - to find she was a he. 'Geez, he should hook up with Professor Snape,' he thought with a cursory glance to the man next to him.

He glanced back again to find the space empty. He looked over his shoulder and found that the man had slowed down - or else Neville had sped up. Not sure which, he continued at his current pace. But there were few people visible on the curving road ahead. He could hear nothing around him but a slight ringing in his ears and the crunch of the snow under his shoes.

He turned another corner and was surprised to see Ginny and Eliza within view. After their fast start they must have agreed on a more conservative pace. Maybe he could catch them. . .

----------------------------------------------------

"Wow, that was awesome!" June exclaimed thirteen miles later. Neville shrugged, trying not to look overly pleased with himself. The thought kept on repeating over and over in his head, 'I did a half-marathon!' He looked down at the t-shirt he had just won that he was wearing over his turtleneck. He had finished before June and her new American friends by almost twenty minutes. Well, okay, he had to be honest - it was closer to fifteen minutes.

"I just felt really good today," he said apologetically. After weeks of begging June to not sprint away and leave him to run on his own, he had been the one to finish first. He stuck out his tongue and let a couple snowflakes rest there. "It's only because I didn't waste time stopping at every water station like you did."

June's expression suddenly became stern. "Don't you dare tell me that you didn't stop a single time for water! Did you?"

Neville tried to brush her off and started walking towards the tables displaying free cookies, sandwiches, bananas, and cereal bars. And, as June had promised so many months ago, crackers. His head was starting to spin, but he felt so great it didn't matter. There were meat sandwiches and peanut butter and jelly sandwiches - he grabbed one of each and ravenously started to devour them, ignoring June's worries.

There was a sharp pang in his stomach. The half-eaten sandwich in his hand suddenly looked like crud. He couldn't imagine why it had looked so appetizing a few seconds ago. He tossed it into a nearby trash can. The sight of the mixture of food and trash inside made him feel ill. He started walking back towards the finish line to watch the runners go by but suddenly found himself leaning over towards the ground. His legs would no longer support him. He collapsed on the shoulder of the road and put his head between his knees. His head was now spinning violently and his mouth tasted bitter. Maybe he shouldn't have eaten those sandwiches. His mouth started watering violently. Spit dribbled from his mouth onto the ground; he felt too weak to brush it away. Suddenly he leaned over farther and vomited.

He tried standing again and staggered a few steps. The world went blank for a second, but then he found himself being supported by a wall of black. He looked up to find Snape's inhuman obsidian eyes glaring down at him. "Don't expect any sympathy from me because of your stupidity," he said simply. Neville nodded, knowing not to expect anything else from the man.

"Oh, Neville!" June exclaimed, shoving a paper cup filled with Gatorade in his face. "What were you thinking? I told you to drink something at the water stations whether you were thirsty or not!"

"I figured it was so cold I wouldn't sweat much, so it wouldn't matter." He accepted the cup grudgingly, not willing to risk having anything else in his stomach. "I felt great."

"It's called endorphins, sweetie, and it had nothing to do with your hydration," Ginny said, who had just come up with Eliza. The finish line for the half- and full marathon was the same place, and they had come to cheer on the last leg of their relays. "That was a great finish, though." Neville had out-sprinted an old lady who was bent on beating him in the last one hundred meters. She must have been at least seventy, but she had a wicked kick. Neville took pleasure in beating her, pretending that it was really his Gran. It was a disturbing thought, actually.

He was about to explain how wonderful he had felt, how he had the feeling of godlike strength and how the snowflakes had felt like pure energy. It was the strangest feeling ever, and he had to tell them before he forgot it. He opened his mouth to say so but instead groaned. The entire Longbottom family, his Gran in the lead, was trooping over towards him, their arms outspread in congratulations, their eyes already merry with the thought of how many Christmas dinners jokes of this race could fuel.

--------------------------------------------------

"Hurray for half-marathons!" Fred and George shouted out together as one, holding their glasses high in a toast. Even though Neville's family had gone home as Neville was going to spend the rest of Christmas at Hogwarts with the Snapes, their party filled nearly half the restaurant. Either the race actually had really been fun, or everyone was so excited to be inside out of the snow with a plate of pasta in front of them that it didn't even matter anymore.

They had gone to a nearby Muggle place so Kristi and Lisa could join them, as well as a few Muggle friends of Eliza's that lived in a town adjacent to hers. The tables were swarmed with loud redheads in all directions.

"I could've had him!" Ron insisted. "If George hadn't taken a bathroom break I would've gotten 'im!" He glared at Harry, who smirked back. It was unlikely anyone would be able to catch Harry if he didn't want to be caught, but Harry had almost a half an hour head start. Cho and Llian blew the Weasley twins right out of the race, the latter having handed off to Harry before George was even halfway through with his leg of the relay.

"Hey, when you've gotta go, you've gotta go," George explained. He laughed at Ron's sour expression. "Come off it - maybe their team was faster than ours, but we've got more spirit. And we're all Weasleys, and that's something the rest of you guys can't say!"

"Thank God. Or Merlin," Eliza huffed.

"What's that supposed to mean?" Ginny demanded, trying to tickle her side.

"It means I'm glad my hair is the illustrious shade it is, and not your horrid orange." She slapped Ginny's hand away. "And I'm not ticklish."

"Orange! How dare you? My hair is not orange! And you are ticklish." She tried to tickle her again, only to be tickled herself. In the end they settled for an arm-wrestling contest.

By the time they were all finished with lunch, the elder Weasely boys had disapparated home, and Cho had left with her parents, it was afternoon. Four Weasley children, two Weasley adults, Neville, Harry, Eliza and her aunt, Professor McGonagall, and the three Snapes wearily climbed aboard the Knight Bus. Neville asked for a bucket as soon as he got on, knowing better than expecting to be able make an entire ride on the lurching vehicle without vomiting after a half-marathon and a lunch big enough to feed a family of five for a whole week.

The bus started to take off only to lurch to a stop again as a girl ran out towards it flailing her arms wildly. She jumped up the steps and was immediately assaulted by shouts from the back of the bus.

"Kristi!" June exclaimed. "You're a witch!"

She grinned. "I know." She sat next to the two Snape children and they soon became lost in a conversation about marathon training programs. Neville put his forehead against the cool window and watched the road fly by. The bus was extremely busy with witches and wizards on their way to do holiday shopping or going home to visit family. It would be several stops before the bus halted before the Weasley residence and then Hogsmeade. The voices swirled around him, danced in his eardrums. He found his eyes slipping shut as small waves of ice and heat rolled over him.

-------------------------------------------------------------

He was sitting on top of a hill. Flames danced around him. Figures swirled. He saw June, flying high above. She pointed beneath him. He looked down and saw. . .

-------------------------------------------------------------

Neville was thrown against the seat in front of him as the air suddenly became full of a horrible singing, the singing of Furies's claws on metal. He knew that the world must be ending. Then as soon as it started, it was over.

He tried to stand only to find that up was no longer up. His head was still pressed against the window, but on the other side of the glass was grass. The shards of broken glass pressed into his forehead. He managed to locate his feet after a few minutes and peered around the seat that had fallen on top of him.

The bus was in ruins. The air was full of smoke. The walls of the bus were twisted and showed huge rents where the sky could be seen. Neville climbed over the seat and fell on top of George. He scrambled away; George's pale face looked shocked, his stomach was a mass of blood, where shiny twisted metal emerged through his middle. Neville stared at George's blank eyes in horror. His legs were nowhere to be seen.

He turned his head and vomited besides Ginny's head. Her eyes fluttered open. "N-Neville?" she asked weakly. Then she sat up suddenly, remembering what had happened.

"No!" Neville shouted, trying to shove her back down. "Don't look!"

"George!" she shouted happily, only able to see his face above Neville's shoulder. She got to her hands and knees and broke Neville's grip. "George. . ." She saw the rest of him and screamed.

Neville pushed himself to his feet and stumbled among the wreckage and twisted bodies. There was moaning and screaming all around him, and the silent roar of flames nearby. Thankfully, many people seemed to be unhurt, only badly shaken, but some hadn't made it. "June?" he called out. "Where are you?" He stumbled past people who were just starting to regain consciousness, and others, like Harry, who were starting to pull the wounded off of the bus to deposit them into the frosted grass outside.

"June?" He found Llian lying on his side. He appeared to be fine except for a wide gash across his head that thankfully wasn't very deep. His breathing was slow and deep. June should have been right behind him.

He found her then, kneeling next to Kristi. June's friend was gasping for breath in erratic spurts. With each breath streams of blood flowed in rivulets down her body. Her entire body was snagged on broken glass. Several shards went all the way through her left arm, shoulder, and the left side of her neck. Her eyes were already beginning to glaze. June tried to pry the pieces out, her fingers slipping on the blood. Neville kneeled down and wordlessly helped her. June tried several advanced healing charms on her cuts, but the one in her neck slit back open again every time she tried to close it. With a sigh, Kristi's breath rattled out for the last time.

June reached over and closed her eyes with blood stained hands. "I'm sorry," she whispered, tears leaking out her eyes. "I'm so sorry. . ."

The sounds of mourning around them continued unabated.

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A/N: Well, I just randomly put myself in the story, and then proceeded to kill myself. Mom always said this would happen sooner or later if I didn't start eating my vegetables. Please read on for further goriness!

CastleRock, aka Lisa, was also inserted into the story but has emerged unscathed. She will be running a half-marathon this winter in memory of her friend Kristi.

Thanks for reading!


	40. Hidden

[A/N: Let it be known that I am not arbitrarily killing people - I had planned since the beginning of the story that the Burrow would be attacked, forcing the Weasley family to hide out at Hogwarts over Christmas. Remember that dream Harry had a long time ago concerning George and a hallway full of mirrors? I may still be a deranged psycho-maniac, but know that the events have a deeper meaning in the story line than random violence.  
  
Also, please note that the rating has gone up to R for cursing, death, dismemberment, despair, and psychoanalysis (you thought I was kidding when I mentioned this earlier, but I proved you wrong!).  
  
Warning: heavy usage of cursing and strong emotions. And now, for a healthy serving of angst:]  
  
41. Hidden  
  
MINISTER OF MAGIC ATTACKED, KNIGHT BUS RUINED  
  
This weekend ended in tragedy for both the Weasley family and a Knight Bus full of innocent Christmas shoppers, reports Jo Mueller, Daily Prophet special correspondent. On Sunday afternoon a subversive group of Death Eaters surrounded the Weasley residence expecting to assassinate the Minister and his family. There is no evidence as of yet whether the group was acting on their own or on orders of You-Know-Who, though the latter is doubtful. Apparently, the group hoped to overtake the house but was unsuccessful as it was empty. Eyewitness reports were given by William and Charles Weasley, who apparated to the Burrow in time to see the Death Eaters begin to search their home. They were captured by the group, only to escape in the confusion following the arrival of a Knight Bus which was carrying the remainder of the Weasley family, as well as a crowd of holiday shoppers. The bus was destroyed in the same explosion which incinerated the Weasley residence. Seven people are reported dead, including two Ministry workers, the bus driver, a visiting American, and George Weasley, a son of Arthur Weasley. Not all of the bodies have been identified. Many more remain in critical condition in St. Mungo's. None of the Death Eaters were captured, as they all fled in wake of the accident. The Minister refuses to resign from his office despite the obvious danger in which himself and his family is being placed. There is much speculation by the Ministry over whether this is the best course of action, as he may not be able to function to the best of his ability anymore. His whereabouts are currently unknown as he and his family has gone in hiding.  
  
* * * * * * * * * * * *  
  
The Great Hall was silent. Molly and Arthur Weasley sat next to Professor Snape, who for once had no biting comment to offer. June had been missing since they returned to Hogwarts, and Llian was still in the hospital wing with a concussion. All the Weasleys, with George notably absent, picked at their food. Neville stared absently at his water glass while stroking Lacy, who lay curled up in his lap. Eliza sat next to Ginny, but had nothing to say to make her feel better. Hermione sat so close to Ron that she was practically in his lap. Ron had been bugging her for a week to come watch the half-marathon instead of going to South Africa with her family, but he was now relieved that she had refused.  
  
The teachers that were still at Hogwarts were subdued. None of them had been fond of the twins' propensity for mishaps, but they recognized that those two Weasleys had had a special vitality that everyone would miss. Hagrid would openly sob at random points during the day. Neville itched to tell him that he was doing more harm than good - the last thing a grieving family needed was a blubbering half-giant. Or maybe he was just being biased; perhaps Hagrid's grief helped their own.  
  
No one felt more horrible then Fred, who sat at the end of the table, his face gaunt from almost a week of not eating, his eyes unseeing and dazed. No one had heard him talk since before the accident. At night he tossed and turned, frequently screaming so loudly that he woke himself, only to pass once more into a fitful sleep. Neville tried to focus on the spaghetti in front of him, but a knot was swelling in his throat. He mumbled an excuse and slipped Lacy into Hermione's lap as he left.  
  
His footsteps were the only noise in the empty halls. The private funeral had been held quickly after George's death. It seemed a shame that he wasn't given a funeral as loud and grand as he had been in life, but his family was in hiding so no one that wasn't already at Hogwarts, except for his closest friends Lee and Alicia, had been invited. His casket had remained closed. Neville went outside into the cold. He stuck his gloveless hands under his sweater. The snow had abated momentarily but it was still wickedly chilly. The walk through the snow was longer than he anticipated, but at least he didn't get lost before he got there.  
  
Just as he thought, June was there, sitting on her rock in the middle of a clearing, gazing absently at the bright stars overhead. He sat down next to her. The rock was so cold it stung his backside.  
  
"What's wrong?" he asked. It sounded stupid to ask - she had just been in a bus accident where two people she knew died, of course she would be upset. But he knew from experience that there was more to it than that.  
  
The look she gave him was as chilly and biting as the wind. "She blames herself," a voice came from the shadows. Neville jumped up but found it was only Professor Fortescue.  
  
"Prof - Florean," he said wearily. The older man preferred that his student called him Florean in private. "What do you mean? June didn't attack that bus."  
  
"Who's been begging to go to this half-marathon for months? Who convinced their entire family to come along? Whose fault is it that the Knight Bus was destroyed?" June spoke suddenly. Her mouth trembled and tears spilled down her eyes. "What the fuck good is my talent? Why didn't I See this coming? I fucking killed George! And Kristi! And everyone else!"  
  
Florean sat on the other side of June and put his arms around her. Neville wondered if it was true. Technically, it was June's fault that they had all gone to the marathon. Without her no one would have even know about it, much less decided to go.  
  
"It is not our duty to know everything," Florean said. "We occasionally receive a Glimpse, but we cannot outwit Fate. If you were not shown this, it is because you weren't meant to see it."  
  
"Bullshit!" June shouted. "I only See what I'm capable of Seeing. I should have known SOMETHING, had some feeling or. . .just something. . ."  
  
"Even if you had known, you could not have changed something that was fated to happen," Florean began to explain, but June cut in.  
  
"DON'T you DARE fucking tell me it was FATED! What the hell is wrong with you? George was meant to die? Who fucking gets to decide, tell me that? Why should anyone have to die? WHY??"  
  
"June, you couldn't have known," Neville said, struggling to organize his thoughts. "Even if you did. . .If the Weasleys had all been home they would all be dead right now, not just George. They would have been outnumbered three to one; they wouldn't have stood a chance. If it had been different. . .we'd have old Fudge back as Minister with Mr. Weasley dead, and then the Ministry wouldn't be taking all the precautions against You-Know-Who that they are now and hundreds of more people would be in danger and dying. Florean's right - you don't control Fate and you're vain if you think you can."  
  
June shook her head, unwilling to believe anything. "I put Papa and Llian and you in danger, because I was being a stupid prat. Begging to go run even though Papa told me over and over and over that it would be too dangerous." She was sobbing so hard she could barely talk. "And I didn't. . .listen. . .I didn't care about anyone else but myself. I hate myself! I should have died, not George."  
  
"Don't say that!" Neville shouted. "Don't you dare! That's demeaning to George's death, to everything he stood for when he was alive. If you say that again I swear I'll punch you!"  
  
"Go. . .just leave me," she sobbed, hanging her head between her knees. "I can't deal with this. . ."  
  
Neville sighed and clambered off of the rock, leaving June with Florean. In wake of George's accident, everyone was blaming themselves. Fred was convinced it was his fault, as was Mr. Weasley, as was Mrs. Weasley, as was Ginny, as was Professor McGonagall, as was Dumbledore. No one could accept what had happened. 'But they need to!' Neville thought suddenly. 'If we let every tragedy overwhelm us this much, we're dead already. If we give up, even for a second, then the Dark Lord's already won. George would want us to fight, not stand around trying to sort out the blame! The Dark Lord, Vuh. . .Vuh. . .' He couldn't think his name so easily. He scrunched up his face and said mentally, 'Voldemort! V-Voldemort wants us to doubt ourselves as much as he wants us to doubt each other.'  
  
He climbed the slippery stairs back up to the front entrance. Dobby was waiting right inside the door, wearing one purple sock, one orange sock, and a tie with blue teddy bears over a yellow sweater. He held a steaming mug full of hot chocolate.  
  
"Dobby has brought Master Longbottom something hot to drink. Master should not go out into the cold for so long without a coat," the small house elf chided.  
  
"Thank you, Dobby; you didn't have to." Neville gulped down the scorching chocolate gratefully. It warmed his stomach violently and for a second he thought he'd either faint, vomit, or do both simultaneously. Dobby still stood there expectantly. "Um, it's very good." Dobby nodded his head, still not moving. Neville wondered why Dobby had come up out of the kitchen for this. Usually he followed Harry around like a shadow. "Um, can I help you with something?"  
  
Dobby nodded enthusiastically. Neville was finally getting somewhere. "Dobby was wondering, sir, if. . ."  
  
"You can ask me anything Dobby. Any friend of Harry's is a friend of mine," Neville said encouragingly.  
  
Dobby's eyes started to water and he wiped his thin, pencil-like nose on the end of his tie. "Dobby knows that any friend of the great Harry Potter must be as great and noble as he is himself. . .Dobby is amazed as such loyalty."  
  
"Er, Dobby - why can't you just refer to yourself in first person?"  
  
"Ayy! Eiii!" Dobby suddenly bounced around the room madly. "Master is suggesting that Dobby is a person! Dobby has never heard such things! Young Master must not be right in the head!"  
  
"I just meant. . .look, what do you want?" Neville demanded, quickly losing patience with the mad house elf.  
  
"Harry Potter is needing his friends."  
  
"Harry has friends."  
  
"No, no - Harry is needing them now. Harry is sick at heart. Harry is thinking he could have saved one of his Weezy's."  
  
Great. Harry had also decided to jump onto the bandwagon of self-pity and self-deprecation. As if it weren't bad enough that one of the greatest students to ever come to Hogwarts had just been killed. . . "Damn!" Neville muttered. "I've had enough of this! It's been two weeks; people better start pulling themselves together and they'd better start doing it NOW!" He turned to Dobby, whose eyes were even rounder than usual in awe of Neville's sudden change. "Where is he?"  
  
"Harry is in the Hospital Wing, with his Lee-yan."  
  
"His what?"  
  
"His Lee-yan. One of his Snapies."  
  
Dobby meant Llian Snape. Neville nodded and headed off towards the hospital wing. He heard Dobby's voice shout out behind him, "Master is going the wrong way! Turn left and then right at the end of the corridor!"  
  
"Thanks!" Neville shouted back.  
  
His anger had wavered slightly by the time he reached the third floor, but his passion was undiminished. Harry sat in a chair next to Llian's bed, gazing absently down at his feet. Neville came close and saw that Llian's eyes were closed.  
  
"He's sleeping," Harry quietly answered his unasked question. "I didn't have the heart to wake him."  
  
He walked closer and brushed Llian's hair off of his forehead. Harry watched him like a hawk. "What are you thinking?" Neville asked, almost offhandedly. Harry understood his intent.  
  
"I'm thinking what a fool I am. No, listen to me," he cut Neville off before he could interrupt. "A few months ago I had a dream that predicted George's death, along with a lot of other people's. Cedric came and told me that there wasn't anything I could do about it."  
  
"Wow."  
  
"Exactly. So I should have warned him."  
  
"Of what? Everybody's going to die. Did you have any clue what was going to happen?"  
  
"No, my specialty isn't with seeing the future. I didn't actually see what was going to happen - I can only see the present. I was only shown that at the present he was in the shadow of death." Harry looked away. "Neville. . .I'm scared. Does this mean everyone else in my dream is going to die? Does it mean none of us have a choice? I feel so. . .I don't know." He rubbed his forehead. "I feel like I could have done something to prevent this. If not from my dream, then I should have felt something from Voldemort. Why didn't my scar warn me we were in danger?"  
  
Neville shrugged. "I don't know about this stuff Harry. Maybe it couldn't warn you until you were in closer proximity to the danger and by then it was too late. I don't know what to tell you about this other stuff. But you said that Cedric. . er. . ."  
  
"Yes, Cedric was in my dream. At least, I think it was really him. Well, his ghost form. Ghosts can travel through the living's dreams."  
  
"You said he warned you that you couldn't do anything about it. You couldn't have stopped this from happening."  
  
"But that just makes me feel worse!" He pushed himself out of his chair; it fell backwards onto the floor with a loud clatter. "I can't do anything! I'm bloody helpless! I can't protect anyone! What good is being different, all these tutoring sessions with Florean, or that bloody Prophecy about my equaling Voldemort" (Neville flinched involuitarily) "if I can't do a damn thing! What's the point?" He turned his back to Neville, his breath coming out in short gasps.  
  
Neville found he had little sympathy left for Harry's temper tantrums. "This isn't about you." Harry turned towards him, shocked by his friend's words. "Look, your best friend's brother just died, and what are you doing? Hiding in here ranting to yourself? The Weasleys have enough to deal with; they don't have time to listen to your little pity-party. See, everyone just does the best they can do and that's ALL they can do. You need to figure out what went wrong, not stand around groaning, and learn to protect yourselves better. Because with Vold-Voldemort around, it's going to happen again and again and again until we learn to do something about it! You should be there for the Weasleys, not waiting for them to come comfort you. They're practically your family - they ARE your family!" Neville took a deep breath. He couldn't believe he just said all of that. He hoped Harry wasn't feeling particularly murderous tonight.  
  
But Harry looked relatively thoughtful. "You're right, Neville," he said softly. "I've been such a jerk. I've been here feeling sorry for myself when Ron. . ." His voice broke. "They're not really my family, but. . ."  
  
"They ARE your family," a voice said behind him. They turned to find that Llian had been awakened by the shouting. "If they love you and accept you into their home they ARE your family, Harry. You don't have to be related to be family. Look at June and Papa."  
  
Neville made a face at the analogy. Severus Snape could burn in hell for all he cared. Family indeed.  
  
A noise at the door made them both look up. Sirius swept through the hospital wing's entrance, flinging snow from his wet cloak and in less than a second had bounded across the room to Harry's side. They stood about five feet apart, unsure of each other, unwilling to let go and fully trust each other enough to pull together through those five feet.  
  
"I heard what happened," Sirius said, his voice a croak. "I wish I had been there for you."  
  
Harry's face closed. "Why should you want to suddenly be here for me now? Why should you wait until now to decide that anything about me matters?" Sirius's eyes went wide. Ouch, Neville thought, that had to hurt.  
  
"Harry. . .you know I had to. . .Dumbledore asked. . ."  
  
"Dumbledore, yes. I'm sure he had a perfectly valid excuse for you to go roaming around the country less than two weeks after you DIED! FUCK!!" He kicked a stool and it flew across the room and broke in a corner. "Why do you even pretend to care about me? Wouldn't it be nicer to just stop pretending? Just go ahead and tell me that I'm NOTHING to you! You just leave without telling me anything - that's okay, I'm just your godson, what do you care about me? I should have known better than to expect that anyone would care about me." He paced back and forth furiously, flinging his arms wildly as he spoke. "Obviously you have better things to do. Go ahead, tell me! TELL ME!!" he shouted in Sirius's face, spitting on his collar.  
  
"Harry. . . If I had known you wanted me to stay I would have come back in a heart beat. If you had only asked me I never would have left. . ."  
  
"But you never asked, did you? You never bothered to ask me? You just assumed it was okay. Oh, he's just a worthless ORPHAN anyway, he's used to being alone and not having anyone fucking care about him - well _I_ CARED about YOU!!!" Harry put his hands on Sirius's chest and pushed as hard as he could. Sirius fell back flat on his bottom.  
  
"Harry, how can you say that?" Sirius was crying now. "I'd give my life, my soul for you!" Harry started to walk away. "I love you!!" Harry stopped, his arms clenched tightly to his side. Sirius walked over and put his arms around the grieving boy. "I love you," he said quietly. "You're all I have left. I love you like a son. Hell, I wish you _were_ my son."  
  
Harry started crying as he sunk slowly to his knees. Sirius sat next to him and pulled him onto his lap as if Harry were a sobbing five-year-old who had just lost his balloon. "I won't go away again. I didn't realize. . .I didn't dare to hope that I meant that much to you. Sometimes I forget, under all of this Boy Who Lived hero crap, that you're just a little boy yourself."  
  
"Not. . ." Harry said weakly, his head buried in Sirius's chest.  
  
"Yes you are. Deep down inside there's a little boy who doesn't understand why his parents left him to be brought up by strangers, who wonders why no one ever loved him. Well I love you, just the way you are. Even if you are acting like a kindergartener."  
  
Harry grinned a little. "I needed you," he confided. "I needed you, but you weren't there. You were never there." He hugged his godfather tighter.  
  
"I'll never leave you, Harry."  
  
"Bloody Gryffindors," a voice muttered from the doorway. Professor Snape entered, and glided across the room, ignoring the melodrama that was unfolding on the floor and walked to Llian's bed, where Llian and Neville sat thunderstruck as if they were watching a soap opera on a Muggle television. Snape addressed Llian. "Poppy says you can come home tonight. You'll be staying in the dungeon's with June and myself for the holidays. You will not be allowed to play Quidditch or undertake any strenuous activity without my or Poppy's approval. Am I understood?" Neville wondered how he could say so much in one breath. Llian nodded and climbed out of bed, putting on his teal robe that was folded by his pillow. Neville reached under the bed and pulled out his fluffy pink slippers that had been a present from June. Llian reached down and patted Harry on the head as he followed his father out of the hospital wing. He winked over his shoulder at Neville, who waved goodbye silently from the bed.  
  
Harry looked up at Sirius, who was still cuddling him. "What do we do now?"  
  
"You could start by eating dinner together," Neville interjected. They both looked over at him, surprised by his sudden outburst. He blushed slightly. "Well, Harry hasn't been eating much, and he skipped dinner, and Sirius just got here. . ."  
  
Sirius nodded. "That's a good idea. But first, let's go see Dumbledore. Together." The hopeful look on Harry's face made him look almost five years younger. "I promise I'll never go anywhere without checking with you first. I'll explain to Dumbledore that I can't go anyplace very far away and I need to space out my 'missions'."  
  
"But - the war with Voldemort! I can't just stop you from doing. . .whatever it is you do. It would be selfish and horrible of me. I shouldn't have been acting like such a baby. I just needed you, for a second, like this. It would be wrong of me to stop you."  
  
Sirius shook his head, pulling himself and Harry to their feet. "Sometimes we all need to be a little selfish. What's the point of fighting Voldemort to survive if we're not even really living?"  
  
Harry grinned and said in mock-disapproval, "You'll spoil me rotten."  
  
Sirius grinned back as they walked out the door. "Maybe I happen to think you could use a little spoiling."  
  
Neville sighed into the empty room. He felt as if he had grown more in this last month than he had in all of his prior sixteen years. Maybe it was because he was one of the oldest in his year and finally decided he should start acting like it. He jumped to his feet and headed towards the door. Christmas had passed without anyone even noticing. The hordes of present everyone had accumulated had remained unreceived and unopened. Neville decided to speak with Professor McGonagall about having a late Christmas. It didn't have to be large, or even happy, but it would be good for all of them. Maybe they all needed to give a little more than they were holding back.  
  
* * * * * * * * * * * *  
  
The cloaked figure entered the North Tower, stepping carefully across the dusty floor towards the far corner. The mirror was still there, untouched and unused. Moonlight pierced the edges that stuck out of the heavy drape. The figure said a quick charm and levitated the mirror carefully down the steps after it. No one was back in their rooms yet. The halls were empty. Harry was going to receive some new furniture.  
  
* * * * * * * * * * * *  
  
Fred stared at the wall. He had stopped here on the way back to his and George's - well, his room. He had found, less than two corridors away from the Gryffindor common room, that he had no reason to keep moving. His mind was numb beyond words. No one knew what to say to him, so he was mostly left alone, which was perfectly fine with him. Part of him had died. His soul had been ripped from his body. What remained was insubstantial, barely worth mentioning. He remembered reading somewhere that identical twins usually died within months of each other. He and George had promised each other at the time that they would never leave each other alone - if one of them went, it was inconceivable that the other stay. But it had never seemed a big problem, for they were young and smart and would live a thousand years and then some. But now. . .  
  
He hoped he didn't have too long to wait.  
  
A shadow fell across his face. He looked up to find Professor Snape towering over him. 'What are you going to do, take off house points, give me a detention?' Fred thought weakly. But it was a poor joke at best. He was surprised when the professor folded his legs under him and sank to the floor next to him. They sat in silence for a long time.  
  
"I know how you feel," Snape said suddenly.  
  
Fred looked over at him uncomprehendingly. "How. . .you. . .you. . .how the hell could you have ANY clue how I'm feeling?" Rage boiled underneath his skin. Fred wasn't even sure how he _was_ feeling.  
  
"I know what it's like to loose-"  
  
"You don't know SHIT! I thought you, more than anyone else, wouldn't try this phony bullshit on me! Don't tell me you know. . .you know. . .because you KNOW NOTHING!!!"  
  
If Snape was upset that a student was shouting in his face, he didn't show it. His eyes didn't show anything at all. They were black and empty. "I'm going to tell you what I've told no one else in the world, save for Dumbledore. I'm going to tell you about my twin brother, Orlando. . ."  
  
* * * * * * * * * * * *  
  
[A/N: Enough of the angst. On with the plot! Coming up: Cornelius Fudge, mirrors, Draco, Oliver the hiding Boggart, Percy, and a little bit of love!] 


	41. Orlando

[A/N: Several of you displayed discontentment that I didn't elaborate on Snape's talk w/ Fred. I had assumed you wouldn't be that interested, but since the few pieces of info in my story about Snape's twin hasn't been enough to satisfy your appetites, I will dutifully feed you more!  
  
Chap Rating: Very much *R* for violence, goriness, sexual abuse, and contemplations on suicide and death.  
  
Btw, I couldn't help but ask if anyone caught my horrible foreshadowing in Chap 11 (Snape's Past) where Snape comments that the thought of one of his children without the other would be like having the Weasley twins separated. . .heh, heh; I plan my evilness, I really do. . .]  
  
42. Orlando  
  
Fred looked up in surprise. "You have a twin brother?" Had he known this a month ago, he and George would have reacted with horror at the thought of _two_ Snapes running around in the world, but his overwhelming curiosity outweighed all other thoughts.  
  
Snape took a deep breath. "Had. I _had_ a brother."  
  
- - - - - - - - - - - -  
  
"Did Pinky see you?" Severus whispered, his eyes gleaming with excitement.  
  
Orlando crouched behind the hedge next to him, still out of breath from his escape from the Manor. "No - it was close though. It should take the elves a while to realize that a couple milliliters of unicorn's blood is unaccounted for." He grinned wickedly. "Did you achieve possession of the book, my slippery friend?"  
  
Severus revealed the moldy book he had hidden under his cloak. "Affirmative." They giggled like the nine-year-olds they were. "Let's go."  
  
They crept behind the hedges and into the garden. When they were out of sight of the sprawling castle-like house behind them, they sprinted for the Dark Woods. When they were far enough in that the forest floor was as dark as dusk and the trees had become silent of birds and critters, they set up the cauldron.  
  
"Do you think this will work?" Orlando asked anxiously. Ever since their step-father had forbid them from playing with his advanced potions books they had thought of nothing else than getting their grubby hands on Moste Potente Potions. They took delight in what small acts of rebellion they could towards a man they were supposed to call a father. In truth, Paul Snape, their stepfather and brother to Ian Snape, was no better than their real father. Ian, a cold, demanding man, was mysteriously brutally murdered two years ago when they were seven. If anything, Paul was worse.  
  
"Of course it will work," asserted Severus. He watched with eagle eyes as Orlando carefully measured the griffin claws. They had decided a week ago which potion would be the most fun to attempt and set out stealing the ingredients. After a tricky climb involving scooting up the gutter outside Severus's room on the third floor to the library on the fifth floor, he was able to steal the book without dismantling the difficult wards placed around the door to the library.  
  
The choice of potion had mainly been Orlando's. Orlando was the default decision-maker and spokesperson for his quieter twin. Severus had thought the pictures accompanying the potion looked gory, but had accepted his twin's decision, encouraged by the fact that it looked to be one of the most complicated mixtures in the book. It was one of the few they could make within a few hours. Any of the month long ones would surely get them caught.  
  
Pinky, a fat house-elf whose sole duty was keeping the twins out of mischief, was already suspicious enough of their activities since the last time they slipped an aging potion into their parent's wine, causing both of them to loose all their hair and several teeth. Retaliation had been brutal, especially since their parents had been 'entertaining' guests that evening. By the time the whip marks on their backs healed, the scars would be so deep that no amount of healing potion could remove them.  
  
They had been told all sorts of tales about the Dark Woods, most including fierce werewolves and mad Muggles. The stories Pinky had frightened them with kept them up during many stormy nights. But it was the only place where they could be unobserved. It became their favorite place to run to for midnight romps, forbidden potion brewing, and the occasional much- needed solitude.  
  
They worked together in silence, Orlando setting the ingredients in order and Severus adding them carefully to the bubbling concoction. Despite the forest's cooling shade from the full noon sun, sweat dripped profusely down their identical faces. Many hours later they stared awestruck at their achievement. Severus saved the potion in an unbreakable vial and cleaned up. He started to leave when Orlando stopped him.  
  
"What are you doing?"  
  
"Going back before someone notices we're missing," Severus answered indignantly.  
  
"I mean with the vial."  
  
Severus shrugged. "I don't know. But it seems a shame to waste it. I figured I'd save it." Severus had an extensive collection of potions and Dark odds and ends he'd snatched from Knockturn Alley. He hid his things under the floorboards and in the walls of his room. It was his hobby, much as Orlando collected and stuffed animals.  
  
"The waste would be letting a perfected good potion go untested."  
  
Severus frowned. "We never said anything about testing it." But his eyes had already lit up in curiosity.  
  
"How will we know if we made it correctly if we don't test it?"  
  
"It was made correctly," Severus assured him. "We followed the directions. We always make them right."  
  
"What kind of potions master are you? Making a potion without testing it - that's got to be against some find of potions law."  
  
"But what do we test it on?"  
  
Orlando poked through the nearby bushes until he was able to find and lightly stun a creature. He picked up the rabbit by its ears and threw it next to the now empty cauldron. He pried open it's mouth. "Well, go on - give it to him already."  
  
Severus hesitated. He would waste all of it on this rabbit. It would be one less potion in his stock. It would be like when Pinky went through their rooms and removed all the children's books she thought they were too old to read. He didn't like waste. He obsessively hoarded things. But Orlando continued to urge him, so he finally sighed and poured the contents of the vial into the struggling rabbit's mouth. Orlando dropped it on the ground. It hopped once and then stopped, staying completely still except for twitching its ears once. They watched with fascination as a long crack appeared along its back which split wider and wider apart. The skin peeled back, exposing the grey organs and white bones underneath. The tiny blood vessels on the inside of the skin were bright red against the paleness underneath. The potion reduced the amount of blood, but there was still a magnitude spilling out onto the grass once the transformation was half complete. Severus suddenly became violently ill. He couldn't watch anymore. He ran away, trying to unsuccessfully hold back his tears while Orlando's gleeful, mocking laughter rang in his ears.  
  
- - - - - - - - - - - -  
  
"We were both Makers, Orlando and I. We always worked together on everything, just as you and George did. Don't mistake me - we fought well enough for brothers, but we shared everything. All we had in that gloomy house was each other. Even after twenty years, sometimes when I'm making a potion I still turn around expecting him to be holding out the next ingredient."  
  
"What kinds of things did you two make?" Fred asked eagerly.  
  
"All kinds of things. Oh yes, we made our share of pranks - tea that gave the house elves warts or pastries that made our cousins so itchy they scratched themselves raw. But we specialized in anything that was forbidden. Our step-father had merely to give a book a disapproving look and we couldn't wait to get our hands on it. Such was our intense dislike of the man that we would do anything we could to irk him. It wasn't that he was against Dark Magic - on the contrary he was an expert in its use. But he thought we were wasting our time making what he called 'woman's work.' He picked up teaching us Dark Arts where my father stopped."  
  
- - - - - - - - - - - -  
  
"Harder!" Paul Snape snarled at his two stepsons, Severus in particular. Less than a month after they had come back dry-eyed from their father's funeral he herded them into the Game Room to test their skills. He found them to be inadequate. "Didn't you learn anything from your father, you worthless peanuts?"  
  
Severus sighed. He loved learning these forbidden treasures, but at his own pace, his own time, and of his own choosing. The more anyone pushed him the less interested he became. "I _am_ trying," he insisted. He didn't think it was fair his step-father picked on him more when Orlando hadn't even fully mastered a simple cutting curse. Neither of them was a natural at curse or charms any more than the average child, but both seven- year-olds knew more than probably a third year at Hogwarts by virtue of the thousands of hours their father had spent training them.  
  
Paul pressed his sweaty, red face into Severus's pale one. "Try harder."  
  
He gulped and nodded. He once more cast his magic at the spider on the table. This time five of its legs were removed, instead of the one he had managed on the last spider. He smiled widely at his small success. Looking up, he prepared himself for praise but instead encountered Paul's scowl. It wasn't enough. It was never enough.  
  
"You're still not doing it correctly, boy!" Paul summoned a fresh spider from the jar and with a flick of his wand tore the spider into pieces so small they could barely be seen. Just a flash of bright orange and the spider was disintegrated. Severus watched carefully, awestruck. He wished he could work magic that easily.  
  
"Let me try again!" he pleaded eagerly. With a new spider, he reached deep down inside of himself, summoning the magic that rested in the put of his stomach. He only managed three legs this time. His shoulders sunk in defeat. It was stupid curse anyway. He hated it.  
  
Paul let out a roar of fury. "What the hell do you call _that_?" he demanded. Severus kept his eyes downcast, his cheeks burning in shame. "That was pathetic. What kind of joke is this?"  
  
All desire to learn the curse quickly deflated from the boy. He never wanted to learn another curse or charm again. It was hopeless - he was a failure. He didn't want to try anymore. "I'm sorry. I really was trying." As hard as he tried not to, he started to sniffle.  
  
Paul slapped him. The shock made him fall to the floor. "Well you didn't try hard enough. Don't you want to learn?"  
  
Severus had never seen such loathing in the man's eyes before. He had known for a long time that their uncle and new step-father disliked them, but he had never known before how deep his hatred was. Did he want to learn? He would rather be anywhere else in the world than in this room being humiliated by Paul while Orlando looked on, apparently unconcerned. And so the seven-year-old boy made a mistake he would never make again for the rest of his life: he told the truth. "No."  
  
Paul was beyond furious. He was shaking so hard with anger he could only manage to shout one word. "Crucio!"  
  
- - - - - - - - - - - -  
  
"Were you and Orlando sorted into the same house?"  
  
Snape shook his head sadly. "Orlando never went to Hogwarts. He became physically weak and mentally frail. He was declared insane shortly after our eleventh birthday. It was thought the school would be unequipped to care for him. Perhaps they were right, but staying at home only made him worse and worse. By the time he died we were almost nothing alike. Our souls stayed the same, but he could no longer live in the real world. The irony is, had he come to Hogwarts and gotten out of that miserable house and away from Paul, he would likely still be alive." Fred stared ahead in silence. "Don't start thinking like that," Snape said sharply.  
  
"Like what?"  
  
"The could haves, the should haves. Your brother is dead. No amount of justifying, analyzing, or blaming can change the fact."  
  
Fred didn't answer immediately. "D'you think he would have lived. . ." His voice broke.  
  
"Do I think he would have lived through the Death Eater attack had your family been home?" Fred nodded. "If the Voldemort's goal was to destroy your family, then no. His death likely would have been long and painful, were that the case. Had he not been killed he would have been used: either converted to the Dark or-"  
  
"Never! George would never turn Dark any more than I would!"  
  
Snape's face darkened. "With enough mind-altering potions and Cruciatus curses even Albus Dumbledore could have turned Dark." Fred glared at him unbelievingly. "Do you think a certain percentage of the population is simply born 'Dark'? No, they are made that way. Most people start off neither good nor bad, but come to be one or the other by their experience and their choices. Had circumstances been different where George could live, but in Voldemort's hands, it wouldn't be any kind of life he would have wanted."  
  
"But he would have been alive!" Fred argued. "He can't even decide what he would or wouldn't want now. So he's better off dead, is he? Go away; just leave me alone. You're no better than all the others."  
  
"It was a comfort to me to know that Orlando was better off. It did nothing to repair the enormous rift in my soul, but the knowledge helped me live through the next years. I know he would never be hurt again."  
  
"You keep on saying that he and you were hurt. What happened that was so horrible? Professor?" Snape's eyes had clouded over.  
  
- - - - - - - - - - - -  
  
"Young master should not be here!" hissed Pinkie, trying to shove Severus back out into the hall. Undeterred, he slipped out of her grasp and scampered across the room to where his brother lay naked and bloodied on the floor.  
  
"Orlando?" he whispered, dropping to his knees. He cradled his twin's head gently, stroking his long black hair lovingly. Orlando was louder, brasher, and weaker than Severus. It took him twice as long to learn the charms and curses their step-father taught them. He therefore suffered the most from the man's rage. "You should have asked me for help. I could have done the charm for you." Severus had mastered the Banishing charm a full week before Orlando. It didn't matter to Paul that Orlando was only eight years old, only that the boy had failed.  
  
Orlando smiled weakly. "The Ministry put a ban on Paul's little toys. He's going to have to sell half of them on Knockturn Alley. He had to take his anger out on something." He coughed and spit out a mixture of phlegm and blood. One of his teeth had come out. He reached out with a shaking hand and held it up for Severus to see.  
  
"Stop that." Severus slapped his hand away. "This isn't the time for jokes."  
  
Orlando rolled his eyes and turned his head towards the window to look at the full moon hovering just above the trees. Severus started cleaning the long knife wounds on his twin's back and stomach. He wiped the tears from his eyes on his sleeve as he worked. He had listened to Orlando's screams for hours, a burning mixture of emotions churning inside him: guilt for not helping Orlando, helplessness that he couldn't stop Paul, fear that Paul would soon abandon Orlando and hurt him next, anger that none of the house elves or his mother stopped what was happening, relief that it was Orlando this time and not him, and shame at his relief. . .  
  
"Then what time is it?" Orlando asked. Severus didn't answer. He grabbed Orlando's torn clothes from the other side of the bed and gave them to Pinkie to fix. Orlando gasped in pain as Severus started smearing the healing ointments he had brought over his bruised face and torn body. Severus winced every time Orlando did: next time it would be him.  
  
- - - - - - - - - - -  
  
"That's horrible! It's-" Fred stopped suddenly.  
  
"Go on, say it. It's disgusting. And it was." For a second, they looked at each other with understanding. Snape looked away. "I don't want your pity. But you need to know how it was to see what they did to Orlando."  
  
Fred's brow wrinkled. "Why didn't someone help you guys? Where was your mom?"  
  
"My mom was a ghost of a woman. We saw her sometimes, but she rarely recognized us. She just drifted aimlessly around the manor, like the Bloody Baron does around Hogwarts."  
  
"But didn't you try to tell anyone?"  
  
"Orlando did, but by that time it was too late."  
  
- - - - - - - - - - - -  
  
The dining hall was full of guests. There were cousins and aunts and uncles, it seemed from every part of Britain. The air was full of murmurs and the swish of robes as everyone shuffled back and forth. No Snape liked the reunions, but it was tradition that everyone attend. Severus and Orlando sulked in a corner, hiding behind a drape. They traced figures and runes in the dust, trying to distract themselves from the mind-numbing boredom that defined a Snape family reunion.  
  
"Merlin, just let me die now," Severus muttered. Orlando rolled his eyes. "Hey, Or - you wanna liven things up a bit?" They both grinned wickedly and leapt to their feet. They peeked out and choose their mischief carefully.  
  
Their eyes simultaneously focused on the punch bowl in the middle of the room, from which children and adults alike were taking drinks. "Sev, do you still have that potion we made last full moon?" Severus nodded. "I think it's time to run some experiments."  
  
They sneaked up together to Severus's room. Orlando kept a lookout for house elves while Severus pried open several floorboards before finding the right vial. "Got it!" he announced triumphantly. They closed the door quietly behind them and sprinted down the hall on their tiptoes. Right when they turned around the next corner they ran smack into Pinkie.  
  
"What is you two doing up here? Master Snape wants you downstairs. Young Masters should not being causing trouble - you'll get poor Pinkie in trouble again!" she chided them.  
  
"I was fixing my hair," Orlando said, running his hands through his long hair.  
  
"You is better be washing your hair instead of fixing it," Pinkie retorted.  
  
"Hey! I just washed my hair yesterday, as you know very well. It's not my fault my hair's like this - blame my parents."  
  
"You is not fixing your hair!" Pinkie accused. "You never fix your hair no matter how many times Pinkie wails and moans! What trouble you two trying to make for poor Pinkie?" They tried to look innocent. "Empty your pockets!" She used a summoning spell to dispel the contents of their pockets, but found nothing more dangerous than a piece of string and an empty chocolate frog box. After a suspicious glance up both their sleeves, she sent them back downstairs.  
  
"Whew, that was close!" Orlando exclaimed.  
  
Severus retrieved the vial from where he had hidden it in his sock and slipped it into the sleeve of his dress robe. They made their way over to the punch bowl unobtrusively, making as if to pour themselves a drink. Orlando watched while Severus poured two glasses of the glowing liquid, complete with bits of avocado, pumpkin, and banana. As he put the ladle back in the bowl he tipped his sleeve enough that the contents of the vial poured out. They left snickering and retreated to a bench lining a far wall to enjoy the show.  
  
It took less than ten minutes before the fun began. Their great-aunt Nierta suddenly doubled over, her fat wrinkled face quivering. She clutched her stomach as if her bowels were ripping apart. Then, quite suddenly, she burped. Orlando snickered. She burped again. Then again. Before she could stop herself, she started lifting into the air. She kicked her red and black boots frantically, but she kept on burping and rising until she hit her head on the ceiling and continued to float along, occasional belches coming from deep in her belly. If the spectacle of Great-Aunt Nierta was enough to stop the party, that fact that no less than twenty witches and wizards soon joined her definitely was. Soon there was an assortment of floating characters, each emitting not so pleasant sounds regularly. The twins were beside themselves with glee when their most hated cousin, Uric, a blond haired bully, joined the floaters. It was the same boy they called Urine for short that was currently in their control. He enjoyed tormenting the twins for years by chasing after them at family gatherings, often beating the crap out of them when he caught them. They were even more pleased when their Aunt Linda, who wore flowered capes and charmed magenta hair, let out a stream of tiny, lady-like burps and began bobbing up and down, giving an occasional glimpse of her voluminous laced underpants.  
  
It was glorious. They rolled on the floor in laughter, unable to contain their glee. The room was in chaos. Grounded relatives were screaming and even throwing things at their floating counterparts. Paul was jumped around frantically, cursing everyone in sight with a deflating spell. As they fell back to the ground, they knocked over tables and hit their heads so hard they fell unconscious. One lady fell down headfirst into the punch bowl. Now the room was full of groans, screams, and burps. The deflating spells couldn't stop the other end of the potion. Paul went from guest to guest, playing the noble host. His anger simmered right underneath his skin, waiting for an outlet. He was helping his cousin Ryan to his feet when he saw the twins laughing in the corner. He strode over to them. "What are you two snickering at? Help your family out. This is a catastrophe! When I get my hands on the slimy bastard who did this. . ." he growled. He slammed his fist into his palm with a loud smack. Severus instinctually flinched and backed away, his face becoming several shades paler. Realizing what his guilty behavior meant, Paul advanced on the shaking boy. "You!"  
  
He reached out to grab his shoulder when Orlando suddenly blocked his path. "I did it. It was my idea. I stole a potions book from your private library and slipped it into the punch. Severus didn't even know about it." Severus was about to protest when Orlando kicked him in the shin.  
  
Paul was shaking with fury. He grabbed each boy by their collar and dragged them up the stairs, not being overly concerned with how many times they bounced against the wall and floor. "Let Severus go! He didn't do anything!" Orlando pleaded.  
  
"I don't give a crap who did what. Even if he didn't help, as you say, he's still going to be punished for not stopping you! You filthy, miserable, disgusting brats!" With these last words he threw them into the Game Room. They slid across the hardwood floor, rubbing their knees and elbows raw. He shut the door securely behind him. Grabbing each boy by his hair, he brought their heads together with a sickening crack.  
  
Dazed, Orlando tried to focus on the man looming over him. "I hate you!" he panted. "I'm going to kill you. I'm going to murder you! I'm going to chop you up into little bits! I'll scratch your skin off!" He shrieked insanely, trying to kick his step-father with each new boast.  
  
"Who the fuck do you think you are, talking to me that way?" He pummeled the boy again and again. "Scratch my skin off, eh? Would you like to practice first?" He cursed Orlando with a variety of nasty cutting curses that left dark gashed all over his body. By the time he was done there was barely a clear spot of skin that wasn't splattered in blood. Paul regained his composure and quickly cast a cleaning charm on himself. "I'll deal with you dunderheads later." With an arrogant sweep of his robes, he was gone.  
  
Severus lay where he had been thrown on the floor, not daring to move. He turned his head enough to see his brother. "Orlando?"  
  
He didn't answer right away. "Yeah?"  
  
"Are you okay?"  
  
"Yeah."  
  
"Those cuts-"  
  
"They aren't very deep."  
  
"I have potions-"  
  
"Save it."  
  
Severus warily climbed to his knees and watched Orlando from across the room. "You shouldn't have done that you stupid dolt. What were you thinking?"  
  
"So what if I hadn't admitted it? He would have beaten us for denying it. Hell, he would have beaten us anyway. Does it even matter anymore?"  
  
"Does what matter?"  
  
"This pain. I mean, is it really me, or is it just another world, like an imagination, a fantasy that you visit in your head."  
  
"I think you were hit one too many times in the head."  
  
"Maybe." He sat up. "I can't live in this world anymore Severus. I have to escape." Severus gulped. Lately Orlando had been daring their step- father further and further, receiving harsher and harsher punishments. Ever since their eleventh birthday several weeks ago Orlando's daringness had escalated. He was now openly threatening Paul. It scared Severus shitless.  
  
"You want to run away?" Severus asked excitedly. They had run away before, but had always been caught. But they were older now, practically adults, and could find a way to stay away this time. "But we can go to Hogwarts now. We'll only have to come back for the summer. It isn't that bad."  
  
Orlando's eyes lit up on fire. "It IS that bad! I hate it! I want to die! I can't stand it! He has to pay! He made the worlds collide together so now they're just a hodgepodge of mush! I can't stand it! Why did he twist them together, WHY?"  
  
"What are you talking about?"  
  
"He screwed up my head! He sucked out my brain! And you dare tell me it isn't that bad? I'll show you!" He lurched to his feet and staggered to the door.  
  
"Where are you going?" He didn't answer. "Come back! We'll get in trouble if we leave! Shit!" Severus jumped to his feet and ran after him. He followed Orlando at a sprint, but still didn't catch him in time. Five hallways and two flights of stairs later, Orlando was standing in the middle of the Dining Hall, his clothes torn and his skin bloody as if he were a red alien. The room suddenly became deafening silent.  
  
Some aunt or other screamed. "What happened to you poor boy?" Her voice held no concern for him, despite her words. From the look on her face she was more concerned with distancing herself from him than learning the cause of his troubles.  
  
"What happened to me?" He addressed the quiet room, the relatives backing away from him in disgust. "HE happened to me!" He pointed at Paul. "It made the worlds collide! I can't hold them apart any longer." He sunk to his knees. "There's me and then there's him, but there's so many other things." Paul started walking towards him slowly. Orlando scooted away in fear. "Stop him! He's going to hurt me again!" He looked up at his aloof relatives in desperation. "Help me! Please, help me! Why don't you do anything?"  
  
Paul reached him and enveloped him in a seemingly fatherly hug. Severus shuddered. Why did no one else see the anger in the man's eyes, the hatred where there should be love? Paul let out a fake sob. "I've tried to stop him, but. . .Orlando has been hurting himself. You see how he is. He scratches himself with anything he can find: knives, razors, even his fingernails if he can't find anything else. You see how his fingernails are worn down to nothing. He did this to himself. And I couldn't stop him. I'm a failure as a father. Tell me, what did I do wrong? How can I help him?"  
  
"He's lying! He did this! Look, look!" Orlando gestured wildly to his bleeding arms. Several relatives shook their heads and backed away. They wanted to get out of this with the minimum amount of contact.  
  
"What did I do wrong?" Paul moaned, trying to outmatch Orlando's shrieks. "Now he thinks I want to hurt him - I only want to help the boy!" He shook his shoulders as if sobbing, but Severus could see his eyes were dry.  
  
Several relatives came forward, healers and curious children alike.  
  
"It's not your fault," asserted Tynne, a cousin from Ireland. "Some children merely turn out this way." She sniffed down her long nose at Orlando's crying figure. "If you ask me he's been slightly off ever since his father died. Never quite got over it, if you know what I mean."  
  
"MMmm, hmmm," agreed several others.  
  
"This may just be a cry for attention," she continued knowledgably, folding her long arms around her thin frame. "Obviously making cuts is the most visible way of shocking people, and doing it in the middle of a reunion - an obvious plea for help."  
  
'Oh course it's a plea for help, you bitch!' Severus wanted to scream, but he held his tongue.  
  
"Let's get you upstairs and cleaned up," Paul said kindly, his eyes still burning. "Pinkie can make you some cheese and broccoli soup, would you like that Or?" Severus gritted his teeth. He was the only one allowed to call Orlando by his nickname.  
  
"He hurt me," Orlando whispered. No one listened. "Why don't you help me?" He looked over to where Severus stood forgotten in the corner, the unasked plea glowing in his eyes. Severus turned away. He couldn't watch them. He was afraid.  
  
- - - - - - - - - - - -  
  
"I'll never forgive myself as long as I live," Snape whispered. "He was lying there, a mere child, crying, begging for help and I did nothing. Nothing." His eyes were dark and haunted.  
  
Fred shuddered at the image. "If they weren't going to listen to a child covered in his own blood, what makes you think they would have listened to you?"  
  
Snape narrowed his eyes, a gesture he seemed to rather like. "You know nothing of the circumstances."  
  
"Seriously, why would they listen to an apparently unharmed child if they wouldn't even listen to Orlando? They would have done the same thing to you, lock you up in your room. At least you were able to come to Hogwarts and get out of there."  
  
Snape shook his head. "I should have done something."  
  
"You were only a child yourself."  
  
Snape laughed. "It's so easy to find excuses when it isn't yourself, is it not? It was ultimately my fault that Orlando died. After that day he was never in a position to help himself again. He was changed. He kept on talking about nonsense, about different worlds that he was trying to keep separate. I don't even remember the majority of what he said. He used to make up stories about his worlds when we were younger, but as he grew older they became more and more complex. It was that day that I realized he thought they were real." He shook his head. "I can't even explain it. Maybe there really were worlds in his head. In a way, I hope there were - if for no other reason than so he could have a place to escape to, every now and then."  
  
Fred cleared his throat. "When did he die?"  
  
"He died my fifth year. It was almost time for Christmas vacation - I would have been home from Hogwarts soon. It always saddened me that he didn't at least wait until I was there with him. It would have comforted me to be able to see him off." He bit a fingernail absently. "Early one morning he climbed to the roof of the tower at the end of the West Wing and jumped off. He was killed instantly. At least, that is what they told me. They buried his body outside the family cemetery - they didn't even bother holding a funeral. My brother was a shame to the family. Everyone wanted to forget as quickly as possible that he ever existed."  
  
"You never got to say goodbye?"  
  
"We looked at every goodbye as potentially our last."  
  
"Oh. The family didn't say anything at all?" Having come from a loving and warm-hearted family, Fred found the degree of aloofness in Snape's family unbelievable.  
  
"No. In fact, we had another family reunion the following summer, when I was sixteen."  
  
"I would have wanted vengeance," Fred said heatedly. "I would have wanted to hurt them, make them pay."  
  
Snape paled. "I did. And I did. Make them pay." Words failed him for a second. "I used a combination of ten different potions to poison every item of food and drink at that party. I used the slow metabolizing ones, like the one used this year at the Halloween feast. I even used cross species ones, for the house elves. By the end of the night I was the only one left."  
  
Fred gaped at him. "You. . .they're all gone? All of them?"  
  
Snape nodded grimly. "It was sweet vengeance, but an empty one. I felt no remorse for my actions, but I could see, even then that it was a useless gesture. To me, all those people had already died when I was eleven. When they turned their backs on Orlando they ceased to be people to be. There were just dummies, going through the motions of life. So it was nothing more than sweeping out a dusty room."  
  
"All of them," Fred whispered. "Even Pinkie?"  
  
"Pinkie died when I was thirteen."  
  
"I'm sorry."  
  
"Orlando killed her. He strangled her with his bare hands." He shrugged. "It was practically suicide. I think she knew she had betrayed him. She didn't even resist."  
  
"How do you know? Were you there?"  
  
"No, but I know that she was stronger, both physically and magically stronger, than Orlando. The last summer I saw her she had lost half her weight. She became almost as gaunt and withdrawn as Orlando. You could see it in her eyes - she didn't want to live anymore. She couldn't do anything to help us and it slowly killed her." His voice was bitter. "The _other_ house elves didn't have this problem. They kept their distance from us. If there was a mess, they cleaned it up. If we asked for something specifically, they gave it to us. Otherwise we never saw them. They pretended Orlando never existed the same as everyone else. Later they began to avoid me as if I were a shadow. That's all I was by then, a shadow."  
  
"I feel that way sometime. As if George were somehow the physical being, the body, and I'm all that's left. Just a shadow. Stupid really." He closed his eyes as tears poured down his cheeks, for his own twin and for Snape's and for himself. He didn't make an effort to wipe them away.  
  
* * * * * * * * * * * *  
  
[A/N: Ok, just remember that you guys asked for this! I hope it sated your appetite. It was an extremely hard and emotional chapter to write, but it was eating my soul so I had to get it out of my head and down on paper. I worked hard on this; send me some kit-kats in gratitude!  
  
p.s. I stole a small segment from the musical The Secret Garden where Archibald Craven is talking right before the Quartet song: "I turned away. I couldn't watch them. I was afraid. . ."] 


	42. A Little Love

[A/N: Draco is *very* out of character, as always. He is slightly more unstable and definitely more indecisive than he is the HP books. He's starting to annoy me. I think I'll kill him.]  
  
43. A Little Love  
  
CORNELIUS FUDGE REINSTATED AS MINISTER OF MAGIC?  
  
Cornelius Fudge, displaced from his office last September by Arthur Weasley, is making a comeback, according to Jo Mueller, Daily Prophet special correspondent. He now claims that his removal was not legally binding. Suspicions are arising that he was in fact framed. "Fudge was the best Minster we've ever had," says Eva Bubblebork, a Ministry worker. "Arthur Weasley forced him out of office purely for his own egotistical ambition. I wouldn't be surprised if Fudge was back in office before the week was out." Weasley has been taking advantage of the recent Death Eater activity to make false threats of a rising Dark Lord, placing the magical community in unnecessary chaos and fear. "The liberal changes he has made to the Ministry to guard against this rumor is unfounded," says Fudge. "I really don't see how he had any support in the first place." The matter is under serious debate in the Ministry. This reporter expects that Fudge will soon regain his rightful position.  
  
* * * * * * * * * * *  
  
Harry stretched his hands over his head and pulled himself grudgingly off the sofa. He had been sitting with a book in his hand for the last few hours, staring aimlessly into the fire in front of him. He was about to go upstairs for a quick nap when a muffled sound over his shoulder distracted him. Someone had managed to throw a snowball against the window. Smiling, he went over and stuck his head out to receive a face-full of snow. The entire Weasley family, along with Hermione, Eliza, Neville and the Snapes were engaged in a rowdy snowball fight.  
  
Ron waved up at him, a slight smile on his lips. It would take months for him to completely overcome his grief, but there was the hope of life on his otherwise blank face. "Come down and play with us, Harry! You can't hide up there all day," he shouted up.  
  
Harry watched the eight redheads weave in and out of the trees, dodging balls of hard snow. It warmed his heart. Neville saw him watching and gave a small wave. He suspected that Neville was behind their frolicking. Neville had done much for them, including reinstating Christmas, and on days such as these was even able to convince the Weasleys to go outside into the fresh air. It was doing them a world of good.  
  
Harry closed the window again and nudged the giant black dog sleeping on the rug in front of the fire. "Let's go Snuffles," he said. The big dog lifted his head sleepily. "Last one outside rolling around in the snow is a rotten egg!" He started for the door at a sprint, grabbing his cloak from the sofa as he ran past. With an amused growl, Snuffles heaved himself off the rug and galloped after the boy.  
  
Once outside he was attacked by everybody at once. He fell laughing to the ground and Ron, Fred, Billy, and Ginny dog-piled on top of him, pushing the air violently out of his lungs. Neville ran up and pretended to throw himself on top of Harry too and everyone groaned in mock-horror. It turned into a war between the Weaselys and everyone else. Sirius ran back and forth between nipping Harry's heels and getting underfoot and making the Weasleys trip over him. Even Molly Weasley was rosy cheeked as she flung snowballs at her own family. "Traitor!" Fred shouted and dumped a handful of snow on her head.  
  
Harry ran through the trees to distance himself from Fred, who had a wicked aim. He ducked his head out from behind a tree and hurled a giant snowball at the first redhead he saw.  
  
There was a muffled shout and then a disapproving voice saying, "That was entirely unnecessary." It was Percy, who had managed to drag himself away from the office. Since Crouch's death, he had moved higher and higher in rank as his work ethic brought him to attention of higher officials. He had managed, through Fudge's challenge, to stay neutral to the whole controversy. He was the only Weasley who could show his face at the Ministry at present and therefore their greatest asset. It still grieved him considerably to break the rules, but since he had them all memorized he was great at finding loopholes. After brushing the snow off himself, he turned to his father. "Dad, we have to talk. Fudge has stepped up his campaign. He wants to try to arrest on charges that may actually be valid. You two better come too," he said, pointing to his two older brothers.  
  
The entire family sobered up as they remembered the dire situation not only at the Ministry, but the world at large. Mrs. Weasley soon excused herself too, as did Fred. Harry was disappointed that his carefree spirit had been dampened so considerably, but found it miraculous that he had been lured outside to play in the first place. Again, he considered that it may have been Neville's doing, but Neville was wandering down near the forbidden forest with June in tow. He felt for a brief instant that he should run over and catch them before they left. He still needed to ask June if she was finished with The Prophecies of the Children of the Stars.  
  
But he looked back over his shoulder and saw that Ron had given up playing and was now sitting on a frozen rock staring dejectedly at the ground. Harry sat next to him.  
  
"We used to have snow ball wars like this," Ron said suddenly. "Every Christmas we'd celebrate by playing outside. We never had many presents to occupy our time." He smiled wryly. Everyone knew how touchy Ron was about being poor.  
  
Harry didn't say anything.  
  
"A couple years ago Fred and George charmed a snowball to follow Percy around. By the time mom blasted it away his hair was frozen solid."  
  
Harry smiled thinly. Ron suddenly stood and stalked down the slope leading to the lake. Harry started after him, but Hermione pulled back his hand. She shook her head and started after him herself.  
  
Ginny managed to scare away the last remaining members of their snowball fight. Llian and Eliza eventually disengaged themselves and went back into the castle to study. Ginny made a disgusted face at this and continued hurling snowballs at their back as they fled inside. She saw Harry watching her and grinned. He grinned back.  
  
They walked over to the Quidditch field, discussing the games that had taken place that year and making predictions for the games to come. Harry was pleased when Ginny slipped her gloved hand into his half-frostbitten one. He felt a warm glow run through his spine. He couldn't stop grinning.  
  
It was almost an hour later, reaching lunchtime, when they rejoined with Hermione and Ron, who were both still sitting by the lake. Ginny sat next to her brother and put her arms around him. Ron leaned his head on her shoulder. They looked out over the half frozen water in silence. There were no words that needed to be said.  
  
***  
  
Harry had been watching the bird fly over the Forbidden Forest for some time before he realized it wasn't a bird. As it got closer he saw that it was far too large, and the wings were attached to a human body. It got close enough that he caught a glimpse of silvery blond hair and a face with pointed features before it went down about one hundred yards away, farther into the forest.  
  
He leapt to his feet. "Malfoy!" he shouted, taking off in the direction of the Slytherin's fall at a sprint. He heard confusion behind him as the others stumbled to their feet and followed him. The nerves throughout his body were screaming in panic. Visions of the dream he had had so long ago, the mirrors, his trapped friends and classmates, flew through his head. He may have lost George, but he couldn't allow any other deaths to come to pass.  
  
He hurdled a log to find himself in a clearing, where Draco stood staring at the sky. He appeared unhurt from massive injury, but blood was dripping down his face and his clothes were torn and bloodied. His wings looked molted a bit, as if he had been beat around. Draco turned to look at him, his face expressionless.  
  
"What do you want, Potty?" he snarled. "Did you think you would come here to rescue me? Well you're too late; my soul is already damned. Would you like to go to hell with me?" His wet eyes were dazed and unfocused.  
  
"Malfoy? What's wrong with 'im?" Ron asked, looking at their crazed adversary in amazement.  
  
"Wrong? What's wrong?" Draco mocked him. "I've been bonded to the devil! I am the devil!" He jutted his chin out and laughed from his belly. It made Harry sick to hear it.  
  
"Draco!" a surprised voice said behind them. Hermione rushed forward, past Harry and Ron, and stopped five feet away from Draco. He looked at her despondently. "Did he hurt you?" He didn't answer. "How could you do this? You know what Professor Snape used to go through - you told me what he said! How can you do this to yourself?"  
  
"Would you like me to stay inside by the fire where it's safe?" Draco asked, opening his arms wide in a shrug.  
  
"You're hurt!"  
  
Draco looked down at himself. "This? This?" He pointed to bruises on his face and cuts on his arm. He grabbed a chunk of feathers from his wings and pulled. Fresh blood began to seep out of the white snowy material. "This? Am I really hurt? What about this?" He pulled the sleeve up on his left arm to expose a Dark Mark, freshly burned, the skin around it inflamed and oozing blood and pus. Hermione gasped. "But you want to know what really hurts?" he whispered. He pointed slowly to his heart. "I'll kill them. I hate them." He sank to his knees and wailed in misery.  
  
Hermione rushed to him and held his head in her arms. He started to say something else, but she pressed her chapped lips against his bloodstained ones. They kissed each other violently while Ron and Ginny looked on in amazement. Had Harry not already seen them together after hours, hidden in an alcove discussing books several weeks ago, he would be shocked too. He amused himself by watching Ron's face turn various shades of reds and purples that reminded him violently of Uncle Vernon.  
  
Harry kept his face impassive.  
  
* * * * * * * * * * * *  
  
June flopped belly down onto her bed in Snape's quarters, and Neville followed suit. "Are you sure you en't seen Oliver?"  
  
"Yep." He ran his fingers through her dark hair. "Do you ever wash your hair?"  
  
She kicked at his shins. "Everyday, shit-for-brains."  
  
"Have you tried that new shampoo Llian made?" Llian had made shampoo, just like he had made soap, and given it to June for a Christmas present. "Or are you waiting until you can taste some of it first?" He kissed her on the cheek.  
  
She pushed his head away. "It'd probably be good for you."  
  
"It'd probably kill you. And then I would be forced to drag your body outside." He paused after saying this, but June wasn't upset. He remembered how a little over a month ago she would cringe and tremble at the mention of death.  
  
June looked at the clock. "It's getting late."  
  
"When are Llian and the git coming back?" Neville couldn't be persuaded to not call Professor Snape a git, but he at least tried to remember not to make it worse by adding the natural prefix 'greasy.'  
  
"Papa said they'd be talking with Dumbledore a long time. We probably won't see them for another hour or two."  
  
"Great, we have the whole dungeons all to ourselves," Neville said. He had meant to sarcastic, given his hatred for anything relating to potions and Snape, but he suddenly realized how someone listening to the conversation could interpret his words in entirely the wrong way. He cleared his throat nervously. "Um, so do you know what they're doing?"  
  
"I'm not certain, but I think it must have something to do with whatever Draco came here to speak to Dumbledore about."  
  
"Malfoy. I wouldn't trust him any farther than I can throw him." It seemed a bad analogy. Neville was strong and big and Draco slender and small; he could in all probability throw him ten times farther than he trusted him.  
  
She fell back on the bed, stretching her arms out wide. "So what do you want to do? We could start writing our Potions essay."  
  
"Bah."  
  
She looked up at him. "Don't you want to get it over with?"  
  
"No." He scooted back on the bed, smoothing down the lumps in the bedspread when they suddenly heard a low growling. "Huh?" He flipped back the covers to find Lacy and Oliver curled up in balls at the foot of the bed, fast asleep.  
  
"Ohhh, they're so adorable!" June gushed. Neville rolled his eyes. Now both the animals sleepily looked at the humans observing them. With a slightly disgruntled huff, Oliver jumped off the bed and climbed into a small trunk in the corner of the room. Lacy looked from the trunk to Neville and decided to skitter after the boggart. June tiptoed over. "They're going back to sleep. You shouldn't have disturbed them."  
  
"They can get their own bed," Neville said, stretching himself out over the animal-free covers. "Do you have any chocolate frogs?"  
  
"You already ate some after dinner. I thought you said you were cutting down on sweets."  
  
Neville made a face. He had said that, but he enjoyed the taste of chocolate so much that sometimes it was hard to settle for just once piece. Or two. Or ten. "I figure since I'm fat anyway I might as well enjoy it and eat what I want."  
  
June threw a pillow at him. "I'll eat you!"  
  
* * * * * * * * * * * *  
  
Llian sat down next to Eliza, who was reading from an old moldy book which she put away as soon as he approached her. "Guess what?" he asked, careful to keep his voice low even though the librarian was nowhere in hearing distance.  
  
"What?" She was tickled that he had sought her out. Of course, it could just be that Cho wasn't there for him to talk to, but she couldn't help but notice that he talked to her more and more often lately. Or maybe it was just wishful thinking.  
  
"I'm going on vacation!"  
  
"Huh? Isn't that dangerous?"  
  
"As hell. Papa and I just had a meeting with Dumbledore. He wants to try to get Volari participation again, and he wants me to go as his envoy. They automatically give higher respect to Harans than to normal Volari. As long as I don't get killed by them when they don't like what I have to say or get killed by Death Eaters on the way there and back I'll be fine." He grinned.  
  
Eliza's eyes widened. "That sounds really dangerous. Is June going too?"  
  
"No. I hope she's not too upset that I'm going, but. . .well, let's just say she has reasons to not want to go back there. I'm really excited though - I get to see my people. I've never been around any other Volari besides June."  
  
"Back there? I thought neither of you had actually been there - well, not long enough to remember. Didn't you go to an orphanage when you were infants?"  
  
Llian stared at her for a second. "You're too damn smart for me. Listen, it's a long story and I'm not at liberty to tell you." He took a deep breath. "I'm Ava's child and she was the most respected in her tribe. They're certain to remember her. Her visions were legendary even among groups farther west. I know I shouldn't get too worked up over this, but. . ." He grinned. "Can you imagine? It'll be like having a family. I'll actually get to meet Volari who are related to me, who knew my mother."  
  
"I thought you said that they alienated Ava. Didn't they throw her out because she was pregnant?"  
  
"Damn you! Okay, okay, I lied - Ava never went back; they certainly would have accepted her if she did, but she left for Canberra and had me there."  
  
"She had you there? Where did she have June?" Eliza smiled, thinking herself clever. Then Llian turned towards her and she saw that his face was deadly serious and realized he didn't think it funny at all.  
  
"Damn," he whispered. "How the hell did you do that?"  
  
"What, June was born somewhere else? Unless you're going to tell me something stupid like June doesn't actually exist, or that she's just some kid you found on the side of the road and pretended was your sister. Or is she really Ava, pretending to be a teenager?" Llian howled and leapt to his feet. Eliza wrinkled her brow in puzzlement. "What? What did I say?" Llian paced back and forth. "I'm sorry."  
  
"You can't tell anyone," Llian demanded.  
  
"Tell anyone what?" What was he talking about? Had the pressure of being related to Snape finally eroded the boy's sanity?  
  
"What you found out."  
  
"What, that June is really Ava?" She grinned. This was a fantastic joke. He was definitely pulling her leg. She would play along.  
  
"Yes."  
  
"Sure, sure, I won't tell a soul." He turned back towards her, but he wasn't smiling. He looked anxious and tense.  
  
He sank back down into his chair and put rested his head on the table. "Oh," he moaned. "Papa is going to be so mad. I can't believe I was stupid enough to just give it away like that." He glanced at her. "Not that I'm blaming you for finding out. It's just. . .I guess I'll let June know. I don't think she'll mind - she really trusts you. But it's just rude you know, to go telling other people's secrets."  
  
Eliza smiled at his Hufflepuff heart. Her smile wavered for a second when she saw how serious his face was. This was a joke, right? "When are you leaving for your trip?"  
  
He shrugged. "We haven't worked out the details yet. Maybe during spring break. But I won't be going alone; Papa would never let me go unprotected. I can't believe my luck thought - I've always wanted to go visit the Volari. I was practically jumping around Dumbledore's office in joy. It was an offer I just couldn't refuse." He scooted his chair closer. "By the way, since you know mostly anyway, I might as tell you the rest so you don't get it mixed up. Ava had me, an only child, and then took a de-aging potion that made her an infant again and wiped out all her memories. So June really is fifteen and all; it's almost the same as if she had died and been reborn."  
  
"Like a phoenix."  
  
"Yeah." He looked out the window with a vacant expression on his face. Studying him, Eliza suddenly had the suspicion that maybe he hadn't been joking after all.  
  
* * * * * * * * * * * *  
  
Snape swept into the dungeons in a fouler mood than ever. Llian was so excited about seeing the Volari that he didn't stop to consider the many dangers involved. A group large enough to provide adequate protection would have to leave and make it all the way to the Southern Hemisphere and back without tipping off the British Ministry, Voldemort's supporters, or any Ministries or official parties in between. The risks were many and the rewards, Snape thought, were few. They were unlikely to persuade more than a handful of Volari to participate in human affairs. Hopefully some of them would see the light that if they didn't fight now they would soon be targeted and wiped out after Voldemort had conquered the humans.  
  
The thing about rallying for Volari participation was that they could be deadly, fierce allies. Even one of their weakest could take out nearly a whole forum of Death Eaters; provided they had their wings, unlike the fateful party years ago that had been lured right into the Death Eater's wards. They knew wandless magic, having no distinction between dark and light magic, and were able to conduct vast amounts of strength from the natural environment. They could draw raw energy from whatever their element was, in June's case rock, and convert it into manageable and malleable magic not unlike the focused magic that came out an ordinary wizard's wand.  
  
Wizards never thought of using the powerful creatures as allies because they were always scared of them. And creatures like the Volari had been abused by humans for so many centuries that it was a deep tradition to not interfere with human affairs. But Voldemort's power-hungry plans involved the subjugation of all creatures, not just humans. They had to convince the Volari of this. They had to.  
  
The expedition was largely spurred on by Hagrid and Olympe's small success with the giants. Other such cases had occurred, mostly helped by people such as Sirius, who frequently traveled to all sorts of exotic locations, and Hagrid, who had a natural affinity with creatures of all kinds.  
  
Snape sighed. It was all right for him to continue roaming through his network of spies and for Sirius the Mongrel to risk his life daily, but he didn't fancy the thought of getting Llian involved. Logically, he could see that Llian was the perfect choice: not only was he the son of a respected Volari and a Haran, but he had the talent of making people around him at ease. He could converse easily with just about anyone, while at the same time keeping Snape's Slytherin quality of also knowing what not to say. He wandered aimlessly around the living room, stopping to kick the remaining embers of a fire that had recently died in the fireplace. Oliver and Lacy were sleeping on opposite sides of the couch. He didn't sit down for fear of waking them.  
  
There was light seeping from underneath June's bedroom door. He walked down the hall towards her room, deciding he might as well tell her what was going on before she went to bed.  
  
What he saw took several seconds to sink in. June was asleep, but she wasn't alone. She and Neville were entwined in each other's arms, both of them unconscious, the boy snoring faintly. Their clothes were thrown haphazardly on the floor.  
  
He closed the door silently and sunk down to the floor, his heart pounding in his ears, his mouth dry. All he could hear was a buzzing. He thought for a second that he must be going crazy, for he couldn't see either.  
  
There were two options. His instinctual reaction was to shout, to haul Neville out of the room and throw him naked into the dungeon hallway, or better yet to drag him all the way up to the Headmaster's office and have him expelled. Screw the fact that it would embarrass and humiliate June and Neville, and alienate from Snape the girl he had adopted as a daughter. She would probably leave if Neville did, if no other reason than for spite.  
  
The other option was harder: simply walk away. He couldn't remove his memory, but he could get up and go to bed as if nothing had happened. The two teenagers would wake up with enough time to sort things out themselves.  
  
He buried his head between his knees and suppressed a sob. Everything was falling apart. June was so young, but had her last life been any better? Snape had given her no choice in the matter fifteen years ago, and here Neville loved her as deeply as he loved his own parents. But surely there was plenty of time. . .His heart felt stopped for a second. But she didn't have time. He remembered her insistence on running the half-marathon. What she didn't do now she would never do. She would be dead by next year. Who was he to say which way of life was better? His own life certainly had been no example for comparison.  
  
After a few minutes he slowly opened the door and dimmed the lights until they were off completely. He walked away.  
  
* * * * * * * * * * * *  
  
[A/N: Here's a treat for you, CastleRock: more of my silly story! Don't you feel special that I'm writing a story solely for you since no one else is reading it? Well, no one except for me and the many, many characters that currently inhabit and eat my mind.  
  
Btw, I have hidden two clues to earlier prophecies made by June in the Llian/Eliza conversation. Try to arrange my puzzle! You will fail miserably. Look especially at, say, the last sentence of the second to last paragraph Llian says. Do you remember any prophecies about wings? (If you really want to try to figure it out, check out the end of Chap 30 Prophecies) Heh, heh, heh. . .] 


	43. Blackmail

[A/N: The Percy in my story is in no way related to the Percy in Bk 5, who is evil and needs to die!  
  
Thanks to MegMeg, the one and only, LisaViola, and CastleRock for reviewing!]  
  
44. Blackmail  
  
When she awoke the next morning in Neville's arms, with the feel of the hair on his chest against her bare back, her first thought was, quite appropriately, "Oh, fuck!"  
  
Neville mumbled something sleepily, snorting softly in her ear. She jabbed him hard with her elbow. He stiffened when he realized where he was, then groaned. "Merlin! I'm so dead. It was nice knowing you. Extremely nice." He buried his face in her hair.  
  
She nodded, affirming his analysis of the situation. "Yup, Papa's gonna kill you."  
  
"I'll be skinned alive!" There was no escaping the over-grown bat. The entire school knew that the Potions Master had extremely sharp senses - he always knew what was going on. He and Llian would certainly be back from their meeting with Dumbledore by now. Unless Neville cold manage to apparate out the dungeons, despite the fact that he didn't know how AND there were wards guarding against it, he was, in many ways, screwed.  
  
He rolled over and pulled June closer to him, running his hand along the length of her body, enjoying the sensation of her warm, smooth skin. "What are you doing?" she hissed.  
  
"Appreciating what little time I have left." He kissed her playfully, nibbling on her bottom lip. She abruptly pushed him off the bed onto the freezing stone floor. He started gathering his clothes. She watched silently. "I'm not going to hide from Snape," he told her. He paused with his foot midway into a sock. "Is that okay with you?"  
  
She looked uncertain. "I don't want to upset him. I don't want to hurt him."  
  
He punched his fist into the stone wall, making his eyes water. "Hurt him! After all the shit he's put you through?"  
  
"I love him!" He grimaced. "He's a good man and a wonderful father. He cares about me."  
  
"Good men don't massacre whole villages. Good men don't rape children."  
  
She clenched her fists. Had he gone too far? When she spoke again, her voice quavered with understated fury. "Papa has done these things, yes. He's done more horrible things than we can ever imagine. But he did them for a reason."  
  
"To take over the world."  
  
"No! Listen, you - he didn't see his actions as being evil; he thought he was doing the right thing. To him, it was the lesser evil. You would do anything to destroy Voldemort, wouldn't you?" He nodded. "Even if it meant sacrificing a few for the majority?" He nodded. "Even if it meant innocent people would die?" He frowned and thought but finally nodded. Innocent people would die in greater numbers if they did nothing. "Well, to Papa, it was the same. He would have done anything to stop the Ministry. It was the lesser evil. Don't you understand? The tragedy that he caused was nothing in his mind to what the Ministry was already doing. You think the wizarding community is all peace and compromise? You think without Voldemort everyone would get along without a hitch, no more power struggles? Do you have any idea how many more communities have been massacred and torn apart by the Ministry? How many people have been silenced or suffered because the Ministry saw them as a threat to security? Don't you know anything? Muggle hunting wasn't even illegal until the twentieth century. Of course, you didn't know that - I can tell just looking at you. No one will tell you that; most people have forgotten. It was a government full of lies and corruption and Papa was going to purge it the best way he knew how - by force!"  
  
Neville sat down on the bed next to her. "But it doesn't excuse his behavior, does it?"  
  
She sighed. "No. It doesn't." Neville started for the door. "But Neville - try to understand." She said it as a statement, not a plea. He nodded, if for no other reason than to appease her, and pulled the door shut behind him.  
  
The cold living room was dark and empty, the fire long since faded away. The grandfather clock in the corner told him it was already seven in the morning. He followed the light seeping under a door into the kitchen. Snape was sitting at the small table, drinking coffee and reading a potions journal. He turned to greet Neville with a blank face. "Good morning," he said, his voice flat. "Bagel?" He gestured towards a plate in the middle of the table.  
  
"Umm. . ." There were a variety of scenarios running through his head, most of them including his own demise at Snape's hands, but this wasn't one of them. Was it a trap? Maybe he had poisoned the food. The man wasn't stupid enough to see his daughter's boyfriend walk out of her room at seven in the morning without knowing what it meant. What was he supposed to do? Sit down and start talking about the weather? Casually mention, "By the way, old man, I just had sex with your daughter."  
  
"You must be hungry," Snape said. "Sit." It was unmistakably a command. He sat.  
  
Snape passed him a bagel and poured him a cup of coffee. He only drank tea, but decided now wasn't the time to say mention it. He was about to speak when Snape surprised him beginning to speak first. "The Headmaster has asked Llian to travel as an envoy to the Volari. He's Ava's child and a Haran; he's the best shot we have for the Volari to even listen to our plea." Snape stared at Neville for a long time, his face unreadable. Looking for something to do, Neville tried a tentative sip of his coffee. "I want you to go with him."  
  
Neville spat coffee down the front of his robes. "What? Me?" He shook his head, unable to digest the information. "Gran would never let me."  
  
"Albus has already spoken with your grandmother. We are at war; concessions must be made. She said you are sixteen - old enough to make your own decision, as long as you understand the many risks involved."  
  
Neville couldn't stop shaking his head. It sounded so unlike Gran - she had barely even let him come to Hogwarts for fear of letting him our of sight. But then he remembered whenever Gran talked about the war against Voldemort and the countless stories of how ferociously his parents had fought. Her voice would take a desperate edge. "Absolutely no compromises can be made," he could still hear her say. "Mark my words, He'll be back, and when he is the price we pay will be bloody. But remember, boy: never give in - never! Even if your life, your very soul, or your family and friends are at stake you must persevere. You will come up against him someday and when you do, fight to your dying breath. Our lives are nothing in the face of the chaos this man would create."  
  
Well, it had come true: Voldemort really was back and Gran expected everything to be sacrificed to stop him, even her own grandson. 'Don't think of it that way,' he told himself. He wondered if there was any truth in what June had said. Had Snape once been so furiously certain that sacrificing everything for his goal was the correct choice, just like Gran believed now? Their actions still didn't line up for comparison. He shuddered and tried to push away the memories that assaulted him: the smell of cedar, a dark enclosed space, the peephole at the top where he watched, his parent's muffled screams that kept coming again and again and again. . .  
  
He waited until his hands stopped shaking before looking up to find Snape studying him intently. "I'd do anything to stop Voldemort. Anything." Even if it required that June died, as she surely would? Even if the family he had left was torn apart? "But why me?"  
  
Snape gave a wry smile. "Why you, indeed." He leaned back in his chair. "You are Llian's closest friend. He will be forced to make a number of decisions and Snapes have a tendency to be. . .stubborn." An amused expression flickered across his face, as if from a private joke. "You can help guide him." He nodded his head, thinking to himself.  
  
Neville narrowed his eyes. "Putting aside the bullshit that Dumbledore told you to say, why me?"  
  
Snape narrowed his eyes right back. "Very astute observation, Mr. Longbottom. I'm glad your analysis of the situation is at a somewhat higher level than your ability to read and follow out simple directions. We are taking for reasons best unknown to you."  
  
"Excuse me?" Neville stood, infuriated. "You can't just dangle this trip in front of me like a treat and expect me to jump onboard. And then you dare tell me that I'm not even mature enough to know why? Screw you!" He started to leave.  
  
Snape blocked his way. "There are a number of events which will occur, and if you are here you may cause them to change. It is imperative that you aren't near. . .near Hogwarts. I will also have a mission to attend to."  
  
"What about June?" Snape turned away. "This is about June, isn't it? Why are you sending away everyone she cares about?"  
  
"It's none of your concern."  
  
"It _is_ my fucking concern! You better tell me the truth, and you'd better tell me it now!" Neville was shaking in rage, oblivious to the fact that he was spitting in Snape's face with each word. Snape ignored his fury.  
  
"Florean has made a prophecy-"  
  
"Not another bloody prophecy! First Trelawny says that Harry's some powerful Dark Lord, then Harry's having dreams about dead people, then June's seeing herself dead, and - I'm fucking sick of prophecies! What's the bloody point?"  
  
"Calm yourself, Longbottom." He pulled out a chair at the table. "Sit." Neville hesitated. "Sit before I loose my patience and decide not to tell you." Neville sat. "Florean Saw a combination of images. One of them was a carmine bird which flew by itself into the Forbidden Forest. He saw a teal antelope surrounded by a cinnamon aura make its way south. Those are the only parts that are vital for your understanding. We don't know yet what June has to do, but she must be alone. Likewise, he saw that Llian's successful journey had you come along. We don't know if you'll even make any difference, but he Saw your going, so you'll go."  
  
Neville stared at him. "And that's it? I'm going to go just because Florean _Saw_ that I was going? That's as bad as when Professor Trelawney's Inner Sight 'told' her that crystal balls would be on the exam." He snorted. "What a load of bull." Snape started to snap back an answer, but Neville jumped to his feet. "Fine, I'll play your bloody games. I'll go. Sign me up. Whatever."  
  
"Longbottom-"  
  
"No, really, don't bother. I'm going. That's all you need to know." He slammed the door behind him.  
  
Snape opened it a second later. "I'll tell Dumbledore. It will be a while yet. You'll find out more as the journey is planned further. And Neville?"  
  
"Professor?"  
  
"That will be fifty points for your impertinence, ten more for slamming my door, and an additional sixty for inappropriate behavior with a fellow student." Neville's cheeks burned when he realized to what Snape was referring. "Good day."  
  
"Bastard," he muttered to himself as he left Snape's quarters. He scooped up Lacy, who was playing in a slightly molded boot lying by the door. "Always has to have to last word. . ."  
  
* * * * * * * * * * * *  
  
MINISTER OF MAGIC ARRESTED  
  
Arthur Weasley was arrested this morning while trying to demand access to areas he did not have the security to penetrate, writes Jo Mueller, Daily Prophet Special Correspondent. Cornelius Fudge was available for comments soon after the highly publicized arrest was made. "It was about time someone was able to stop the corruption that has run rampant through the Ministry ever since Weasley was falsely declared Minister," the dignified Fudge proclaimed. "He had been wasting funds on miscellaneous Death Eater activity, causing undue public fear for an empty threat - even sunk down to bribery and the misallocation of funds. It is time for someone to step into the position that Weasley has left adulterated - that someone should be me." Fudge's outstanding record is testimony to his words. He had been Minister for nearly fourteen years before the upstart Weasley ousted him. Hopefully, the Ministry will find it's much needed security in a man that wizarding kind can depend on.  
  
- - -  
  
"Depend on to be a complete and total arse!" Ginny exploded. "How could they? Dad had every right to do what he did! Bribery? Theft? What rubbish!"  
  
Percy sighed. "That's just the problem, Ginny. Dad _has_ been bribing people, and he _had_ to get the money from somewhere." Ginny just stared at him. "I warned him about this, but it was the only way. It was either that or let innocent people die because we couldn't find a way to fund our programs. The Ministry made too many budget cuts; they were even saying that only half the force of current Aurors was needed." He threw his arm over his face. "This whole thing is a nightmare!"  
  
Ron squirmed in his seat. "What are going to do now?"  
  
Charlie looked at him sharply. "What do you mean, 'what are we going to do now?' Don't you dare start having any stupid ideas. Trust me, anything you can think up I've already thought of first, and none of them are going to work."  
  
"But they're putting Dad in Azkaban! We can't let them do that to him!"  
  
"We don't have a choice," Billy said, gripping the armrest of his chair hard. "We can't exactly march in there and demand Dad back." He picked a piece of candy out of his pocket and threw the wrapper into the fireplace. He put the blue lump on his tongue and his hair was instantly a brilliant blue. It was one of the last things the twins had created together.  
  
"What we need to do is kill Jo Mueller," Ginny said, her face determined. "She's almost as evil as Rita Skeeter."  
  
"Skeeter hasn't been writing anything lately," Billy mentioned. "Usually she would be covering news like this."  
  
"Yeah, I guess Skeeter decided to take a little vacation, huh?" Ron said, winking at Hermione, who was sitting by the common room window, deeply engrossed in a book. She reached down to pet Crookshanks, who was rubbing against her heels.  
  
"We need to fight Mueller with fire!" Ginny insisted.  
  
"You can't fight words with fire," Harry said calmly. "If we attack her physically, we'll just prove all the lies she's been telling the public."  
  
"Then what can we do?" Ginny said, sure that Harry wouldn't have an answer.  
  
"We fight the same way I always fought the Dursleys when I couldn't use force or magic: we fight with words."  
  
Ginny looked dubious.  
  
"He's right, you know," Hermione said, only half paying attention to the conversation. "We need. . .we need to fight her by making the public doubt her words."  
  
"So, so what?" Ginny demanded. "Are we going to publish our own newspaper? Send out random leaflets to wizards telling them the truth? Mueller's pretty well-respected (even though she doesn't deserve to be, the cow!)."  
  
"There are other people that the public believe," Hermione said.  
  
"Yeah," Billy said, warming to the idea. "If Rita Skeeter said even a word against this Mueller chick, I'd bet a thousand galleons half of Britian would change their minds overnight."  
  
Hermione jumped to her feet. "That's it!"  
  
Billy shook his head. "I was just kidding. There's no way we could possibly get Skeeter to write anything truthfully. She's only obsessed with tainted reputations and downfalls and juicy gossip. Bah!"  
  
Hermione started pacing back and forth. "That's. . .it's just perfect. . .just like she. . .and she does write. . .I should have thought. . ."  
  
"Whoa, slow down there, Hermione. What are you thinking?" Ron said, exasperated.  
  
Harry smiled. "She's thinking about a little bug that may owe her a favor."  
  
Ron and Ginny's eyes widened in understanding. "Do you really think Skeeter would write a praising article about someone like Dad? There's no way she'd be able to pass up all those bribery charges," Charlie commented.  
  
"Not if Fudge's reputation has even more smudges than your dad's," Hermione said, an evil glint in her eye. "She'll have a field day exposing all the horrible things about Fudge that she wasn't allowed to say before when he was Minister!"  
  
Ginny laughed wickedly. "Attempted murder, the goddamn prat. Actually, it should be outright murder, because June did die when he sicced those dementors on her."  
  
Hermione was now bouncing excitedly. "It just might work!"  
  
"But I don't understand how you can get Skeeter to do anything _you_ want to her do - didn't she write an article just last year about how horrible you were?" Charlie asked.  
  
"Oh, I remember that. Hermione Granger and her twisted love life. I showed all my friends the article and said, 'Look here, this is my little bro's girlfriend!'" Billy said. Ron looked murderous.  
  
"I do hope you aren't going to try to get away with something as outrageous as bribery yourself, will you Hermione?" Percy asked.  
  
"No. I won't use bribery." Percy relaxed. "I'll use blackmail."  
  
"But - what-" Percy stammered.  
  
"I find people become very cooperating when they're facing imprisonment at Azkaban," Hermione stated.  
  
Percy gaped at her. "You can't use blackmail."  
  
"Why not?"  
  
"Would it really work?"  
  
"Yes."  
  
He considered it for a second and finally nodded. "If it'll help Dad. . ." He became flustered when he saw everyone staring at him. "Well, we can't possibly get any deeper than we already are! And this doesn't mean I condone any sort of rule-breaking, ever. Unless it helps." He shrugged, ignoring his sibling's astounded stares.  
  
* * * * * * * * * * * *  
  
Harry yawned and dropped the book on advanced astral projection to the floor. Another book finished. It felt like he had read almost half of the Restricted Section, even though that was probably physically impossible. There were still volumes and volumes of recorded visions by all kinds of Mages and Mystics that Florean encouraged his students to explore. Harry still had a list of about five books he had wanted to finish before the Christmas holidays were over, but it didn't look like it was going to happen. One of them was 'The Prophecies of the Children of the Stars' but June still hadn't returned it. It was becoming ridiculous. Come to think of it, though, Eliza should probably read it before him. The books that Eliza could read were restricted to those June and Harry could read - some of the books had curses or charms on them that prevented anyone whose Sight hadn't yet developed from reading them. Harry thought it was plain ridiculous, but he knew well enough that people could be biased for any number of reasons. Eliza was frighteningly becoming proficient in interpreting visions. Sometimes June and Harry would seek her out for a second opinion on something they Saw before talking to Florean.  
  
He put his ear to the door to make sure the Weasleys were still engaged in the common room. Ron was taking on all his siblings in chess and beating them spectacularly. Harry was completely alone. He crept over to his bed and slipped into the small space between his bed and the wall, a space obscured by the heavy drapes that hung around the four-posted bed. He pulled the cloth away and once more greeted his parents. They smiled the same as always, still achingly beautiful and endlessly loving. He sighed and slipped to the floor next to the mirror, resting his hand on the cool surface. It was okay for him to spend time here because now he knew what the mirror could do. He wasn't a stupid little first year anymore. He could limit the time he spent here.  
  
The great thing was, if anyone entered the room unannounced, he could just slip through the drapes onto his bed in a second and look as if he had been there all along. Of course, there was no reason to keep his time spent there a big secret, but he had a tingling feeling that the mirror was put there especially for him. He didn't want to share it.  
  
It wasn't that he used it that much - just sometimes when he was alone, early in the morning, or right after a meal, or in the afternoon, or right before a meal, or late at night when everyone was asleep. . . So it wasn't like he was becoming obsessed with it like he had his first year. Sure, he thought about it sometimes when he was away, but that was only natural. It was like looking at a picture, and no one had ever found a reason why he shouldn't look through his album as much as he did (about once every few weeks, but always when alone, as if it were a secret obsession). A picture couldn't hurt you.  
  
Harry had Sirius now. He knew, in his heart, he would give almost anything to have parents, but he was content. He had a godfather who loved him, and a home at Hogwarts. What could the mirror offer him that he didn't already have, save for happiness?  
  
* * * * * * * * * * * *  
  
[A/N: Enough with the bloody prophecies! Btw, CastleRock was confused why I mentioned a prophecy that wasn't known until the 5th book; for those of you with foggy memories, I made up my own prophecy before book 5 ever came out at the end of chap 14. Lessons.  
  
I am keeping my original storyline regardless of what happened in Bk 5!! There will be a few coincidences, but mostly because some things were easy to guess from Bk 4 - such as Hermione using Rita Skeeter, and as there being a _first_ prophecy by Trelawney that involved Harry, etc.  
  
**PLEASE READ**: There will be an onslaught of new characters with all the Ministry, aurors, reporters, school children, random wizards and witches, Death Eaters, and the like in preparation for the 'Final Battle'. I've decided it would be funner with audience participation! Yes, that's right, if you are interested in making a cameo appearance in my story, please let me know anything you want (what name and profession you want, your personality, etc.). If the opportunity presents itself, I may be able to put you in! And I'm doing it for free (and mostly so I don't get bored trying to finish this mammoth project which was supposed to be _less_ than 30 chaps). However, don't be offended if I kill your character - heck I killed myself for Merlin's sake. . . Let me know if you want to enter my insane world by reviewing or dropping me an email at leblancct@mercury.hendrix.edu - and yes, CastleRock, you can insert unwary friends in too if you want (your roommate would make a fabulous Death Eater. . .)] 


	44. The Bester Prophecies

45. The Bester Prophecies  
  
"The Time of Fortune has slipped away,  
  
forever hidden behind the Veil of Misfortune and Chaos.  
  
When the three Ran Bearers unite in Lin,  
  
a Circle of Destruction, Ayn, will emerge  
  
which envelopes the Dark and the Light."  
  
Eliza sighed and let the book of prophecies slip from her fingers and clatter to the floor beside where she sat leaning against a shelf in the Restricted Section. She was in one of her more violent and bitter moods. Why had she ever been interested in Divination in the first place? Everything was so inexact that she wanted to scream. How had she ever thought that she could even have a miniscule amount of talent at it? There was no way in hell to remember the thousands of volumes that made up the chronicles of prophecies, much less be able to link them together or understand them. It seemed like any moron who felt like it could pull prophecies out of his ass and call himself a Seer. There were volumes and volumes of flowery nonsense written by all kinds of bozos. What the heck was a Ran bearer anyway?  
  
Ran.  
  
Why did that make her think of Llian? She remembered a book she had found documenting the traditions and customs of the Volari. It had been a fascinating book, but she read it to better understand Llian and June. The part about Volari prophecies, especially in relation to Harans, was extremely shallow. She had discretely suggested to June that _someone_ should write more on the subject. June had undertaken the project with relish and already had over fifty pages written. It was one of the many projects she was determined to finish before the year let out.  
  
She tried again to pick up the book of prophecies but found herself unable to stop thinking of the Volari book. It was like a mental itch. Finally she gave in and grudgingly retrieved the other book; she began to aimlessly leaf through.  
  
_Ran_.  
  
The word jumped out at her. She hurriedly found the page she had glimpsed it on only to be disappointed. It had only been the end of the word Haran. Her mistake was understandable, however: the traditional spelling was used here, Ha'Ran. She wondered if the Veela had anything like a Ha'Ran. 'You're getting _way_ off subject here,' she tried to tell herself, but it was no use. The prophecy she had been reading would have to wait. It seemed her mental itch had spread to more regions of her brain. It took her less than a minute to find a companion book on Veela in the same section on magical creatures, also written by the same author, a fantastic writer named Carol Berg. She quickly found that there was such a trait among the Veela, but those possessing abilities of both a Maker and a Seeker were outcasts, not allowed to live with the tribe because their powers were often dangerous and volatile. They were still held in great respect, but at a distance. Interesting. But what made her heart jolt was the name given to such Veela: Ol'Ran. Very interesting.  
  
She knew it shouldn't be affecting her so much, but it seemed like it was important. Of course the names would be similar: didn't Volari and Veela evolutionarily come from the same species? She looked again through both books but was unable to find any coincidence between the two names. She did find some relevant facts: according to both books, the word Lin meant something akin to war, or more accurately, a final battle of sorts. It was described more as a phase or frame of mind than an event. Another was that 'Ayn' was mentioned briefly in describing Volari powers. Unfortunately, nothing more was said other than the implication that it was some kind of ultimate secret weapon that was considered hideous and deadly, only to be used in extreme desperation.  
  
There were _way_ too many coincidences for her taste. Bester, the man who wrote the prophecy, had lived in seclusion in the Western Hemisphere, where creatures like the Volari and Veela didn't exist. Moreover, he had lived several centuries ago, before any general knowledge beyond myth was known of these winged creatures. The Carol Berg books had been written within the last twenty years - quite recent when one considered the fact that 99% of the books in the Hogwarts library had lived there longer than the Headmaster.  
  
She ran to the card catalogue. Could the prophecy actually have some truth to it? She could feel a knot of excitement build in her belly. Her fingers tingled as she quickly flipped through to 'Berg, Carol.' There _was_ another book by her.  
  
It was called 'The Ran Bearers.'  
  
Eliza was so stunned when she read the title that she squealed and jumped up and down, causing Madame Pince to glare and the students who had just returned from Christmas vacation to look up in surprise.  
  
It was a small green book pushed so far back in the shelf that for a few frantic seconds she didn't see it. She sat down at her favorite table by the window at the back of the library and began to read, surrounded by books on winged creatures and prophecies. Several times she was forced to clap her hand over her mouth to prevent herself from screaming. Her hazel- green eyes became wider and wider. By the time she was done her face was pale and her breathing ragged. Merlin! Why had she ever gotten herself involved in Divination in the first place? 'Next year,' she promised herself, 'I'll take a Divination break - after all of this is over.'  
  
Gathering an armload of books, she set out to find June and Llian.  
  
----------------------  
  
She paused outside the common room door. "It's okay," Llian assured her. "I go in the Gryffindor common room all the time. Nobody cares." Eliza bit her tongue. Of course they would let _Llian_ in. She was close friends with many Gryffindors, but it still felt like treading on enemy territory.  
  
Llian pulled her over to the fire, where a group of redheads, June, Dean, and Neville were seated. "Hey guys," he said, sitting down on the armrest where Hermione read a book, oblivious to the conversation around her. "What's going on?"  
  
Dean made a face. "Seamus and I had an argument about Quidditch and soccer. It was completely random and bizarre and we're not speaking until he comes to his senses."  
  
Llian frowned. "It's not like you to be so uptight Dean. You've always been easy-going, a peace-maker of sorts. What's really going on?"  
  
"Seamus doesn't support dad," Fred said in a monotone voice.  
  
"He's being rightly piggish," Dean admitted. "But it's not just him. Half the school is targeting the Weasleys on jokes and ridicule."  
  
"You mean he's being a big prat," Ron corrected him. "The good thing is the other half of the school supports dad."  
  
"I think the supporters are in the majority," Llian guessed. "But the ones against your dad are meaner so it probably looks like there are more of them than there really are. Don't let it get to you guys. Your dad is a good man, smart enough to look out for himself, and courageous enough to do what needs to be done. Most of the kids against him are probably just repeating what their parents said or else have been brainwashed by the newspapers."  
  
At that last statement, Hermione let out a snort of laughter. When she saw everyone was looking at her she blushed and quickly ducked back behind her book.  
  
"You have an overly optimistic view of people in general," June criticized her brother. "You're ignoring the fact that most people are mindless incompetents."  
  
Ginny snorted. "There's the Snape in you coming out, June."  
  
Harry came bounding into the room holding his Firebolt. "Quidditch practice! C'mon you guys, let's get some practice in before the blizzard tonight."  
  
Ginny protested. "There's no blizzard forecast for tonight."  
  
"There'll be one," Harry assured her. Ginny sighed and marched with out with Ron and Fred. Harry paused besides Nevillle. "Are you coming?"  
  
Neville shook his head. "Um, no." It wasn't usual for Harry to randomly ask people to come watch practice.  
  
Harry glanced over to the portrait hole. The Weasleys had left. "How can we train without both our Beaters?" Neville's eyes widened. "Fred was actually the one who sought me out to suggest you as a replacement. It was a toss up between you and John Ross, but Fred said he'd rather work with you." Harry raised an eyebrow. "Are you game?" Neville nodded wordlessly. A mixture of sadness and joy washed over his face as he followed Harry outside. He would been ecstatic with happiness to play last month, but knowing he was filling George's shoes shook out whatever joy his placement on the team might have brought.  
  
Seamus came over to Dean with an apologetic look on his face. "Look mate, I'm sorry-"  
  
"It's okay," Dean said.  
  
Seamus brightened. "Okay. Wanna go watch them practice?"  
  
"Sure." They left together, talking about their New Years resolutions.  
  
Hermione rolled her eyes. "And so their differences were solved. . .by completely ignoring them. Boys! I'll never understand them." She went back to her book as if she had never spoken.  
  
Llian cleared his throat. "Eliza needs to talk to us, June," he said. "And I guess it might concern you too, Hermione." Hermione put her book down. They looked at Eliza expectantly.  
  
"I. . .I was looking through. . .the Bester prophecies-"  
  
June snorted. "He was a loony. A genius, but a raving madman. Which volume?"  
  
"The fifth."  
  
"Oh. I've only read the first two. How the heck do you read everything so fast? I swear once I saw you randomly pick up a book and you were finished reading the entire thing before I even finished two chapters in the book I was reading. The scary part was you remembered and understood everything you'd read." Eliza beamed. It was a huge compliment coming from June, who could devour whole books in less than a day. Between the two of them, they kept Hermione on her toes to keep her position as resident bookworm.  
  
"Well, I was reading and came across this particular snippet that caught my attention. At first I thought it was just rambling, but. . .well, let me read it:  
  
The Time of Fortune has slipped away, forever hidden behind the Veil of Misfortune  
  
and Chaos. When the three Ran bearers unite in Lin, a Circle of Destruction, Ayn, will  
  
emerge which envelopes the Dark and the Light."  
  
June's brow furrowed. "It doesn't make sense. I can't See what it's saying." When true Seers read prophecies, they were often able to See what the original Seer did.  
  
"I think I have an answer," Eliza said tentatively. She hoped they wouldn't laugh at her, but it was important enough that she tell them her theory in the chance that she was correct. "But first I need to know one thing: what is this Ayn?"  
  
"That's what I was about to ask," Llian said. "I recognize some of the other terms, but this Ahh-nuh?" Eliza nodded, then shrugged and admitted she wasn't sure how it was pronounced. "Spell it." She did.  
  
"Oh!" June's face lit up in comprehension and looked fearful at the same time. "You mean Ayn. It's pronounced like the Ein in Einstein. It's referred to as the Circle of Destruction. Its literal translation is eat- alive, or to be eaten alive. It's an ancient and powerful wandless magic that can only be invoked by Volari and Veela. It's called the Circe of Destruction because all it's capable of doing is destroying. It will destroy anything within a certain area of where it's released, and I mean everything - whoever it's aimed at, bystanders, even people fighting on the same side. When invoked in full force it usually drains the invokers so much that it kills them, too. No one survives unscathed, see?"  
  
Llian jumped in explaining. "It's the same magic that June used this summer. She wasn't even pulling it to its fullest extent. Those few blocks that were destroyed were nothing compared to its full potential. Ideally it's used as a last resort, a sort of ultimate weapon where you have no chance of survival and are prepared to risk death anyway. It usually involved three invokers to maximize the power - three Ran bearers, to be exact." He turned towards Hermione to explain. "A Ran bearer is a Volari or Veela that possessed a certain spirit they call Ran. It's known to the Volari as the Ha'Ran, to the Veela as the Ol'Ran. Anyway, three is the best number to minimize the deaths of the invokers, which is common. They formed a link together so their powers literal flow between each other in a circle. See, there are so many different meanings to it."  
  
June nodded. "Do you understand the other terms?"  
  
Eliza nodded. "I think so. I read the three books by Carol Berg-"  
  
June clapped her hands. "Excellent! They're fantastic books - everyone should read them."  
  
"So you've figured it out?" Llian asked.  
  
Eliza nodded. She wished she hadn't. "I've looked at the comments and surrounding prophecies - I won't quote them all, it would take too long, but it seems to point to a conclusion. I can't say that I like what it says, but we all know that prophecies are only indicators of future paths, not destinies set in stone." June nodded. She knew this only too well. "The Time of Fortune obviously refers to the myth of Dreamtime, where the Volari weren't landless and had no wings. It's akin to the dimension June enters when she goes into trances. Then came the Veil, which hid the Volari's land from them, forcing them to roam the skies using their new wings until they could find their land again and no longer have to fly." She shrugged. "That's the story anyway, and the beginning of the prophecy seems to be a rehash of this legend. Chaos refers to the emergence of other creatures, mainly human. The Volari thought that humans brought Chaos on the world where before there had been none. Right?" She looked to June for confirmation. June nodded.  
  
"There was more describing these Ran bearers, and I am fairly certain it applies to this time, this year in particular. I think it points to June, Llian, and Draco as the three Ran bearers."  
  
There was an immediate uproar from her audience.  
  
"June will do no such thing! That's dangerous-"  
  
"Draco? A Ran bearer?"  
  
"No, we won't; you don't understand what it can do-"  
  
"Enough!" Eliza shouted, drawing stares from the other end of the common room. They calmed down and listened to her explain. "Look, I didn't make the prophecy, I'm just letting you know what it points to. The worst part hasn't even come yet. The thing about uniting in Lin makes me pretty confidant it's talking about the final battle with Lord Voldemort."  
  
Hermione and June gasped. "You think so?" Llian said grimly. "I could see us invoking it for something that important. But if we did so, even if we were in the middle of the Forbidden Forest at full strength we could likely take Hogwarts and Hogsmeade with us. If Draco really is a Ran bearer. . ."  
  
"I think he is," Hermione whispered. "He has a sixth sense about things, and he's definitely a Maker like you are Llian - always coming up with new potions. I just never stopped to think before that there was a similar category for Veela."  
  
"I don't know any details about what kind of destruction it would cause should you invoke it," Eliza continued, "but I know what the end of the prophecy means. It says that Ayn will envelope 'the Light and the Dark.'"  
  
June paled. "You mean everyone, both Voldemort and Dumbledore's armies will be destroyed? No! I won't allow it. The costs are too steep."  
  
"That's not what it refers to. Early and later prophecies come back to this idea of the Light and the Dark, and it's referring to actual people, not abstractions or armies. Two people." She bit her lip. "Are you sure no one caught in the Ayn would survive?"  
  
"Certain," June whispered. She knew from experience. She had seen firsthand what it could do.  
  
"The Dark obviously refers to Voldemort, but I think the Light refers to Harry."  
  
They were silent. Hermione looked like she was about to cry. "Snap out of it, all of you," Llian suddenly said, his voice harsh. "Don't pretend you never thought this would happen. Look at who Harry is - he's been on half of Britain's death list since before he was born. You know there's been a prophecy for years about his powers. You know how he can control double portals, can even pass between the worlds of the Living and the Dead." He looked sad. Eliza wanted to slip an arm around his thin waist and comfort him, but she decided now wasn't the best time.  
  
"Should we tell him?" June asked.  
  
"Why?" Llian asked. "He doesn't need to know. Like you said, prophecies are only paths, probabilities."  
  
"He already knows," Eliza whispered. They looked at her. She was suddenly embarrassed. "I don't know why I just said that. I think. . .I just have this feeling that he knows, deep down inside of him. He's determined to see this through to the end; he's going to see Voldemort destroyed if he has to kill the man himself. I think. . .part of Harry doesn't expect to live. I think he's already accepted the fact that he very likely may die."  
  
No one had an answer to that.  
  
* * * * * * * * * * * *  
  
He knocked on the heavy wooden door. He had been here once before, but he hadn't been alone then. He doubted the rooms inside would be as welcoming as they had been during June and Llian's birthday. It was hard to believe he had ever been so carefree.  
  
Lots of students thought he and George didn't take anything seriously - no one thought that maybe sometimes they had had to act so childish to prevent themselves from taking things too harshly. He felt now like an incompetent that needed his hand held. Everyone was baby-talking him, offering hugs and condolences. He just wanted to be left alone.  
  
He heard movement behind the door and had an unbearable urge to run away. What was he doing here anyway? What would he say when Snape demanded an explanation? He should just set off a dung-bomb now and get out of here. But before he could do anything the door swung open and Snape was silhouetted in the doorway.  
  
Fred found he had lost his voice. He waited for Snape to grill him, to say something Snapish and let him know that nothing was changed, but the man merely moved aside and motioned Fred inside. Fred walked in as if he had meant to, hiding his sudden insecurity. He had learned when he was little that the only difference between people like him and George and shy people like June and Neville was that he was able to ignore the small voice of doubt and pretend he knew what he was doing. And it always miraculously worked.  
  
He stood inside the door, unsure of what to do next. Snape shut the door and again motioned him forward, to the couch in front of the fire. Fred started to sit awkwardly on the front half, but instead slid back into the fuzzy softness and propped up his feet on the table as if he belonged there. He had a reputation to keep.  
  
He stared into the fire, waiting for Snape to ask him what he thought he was doing here, but Snape never nothing. He finally looked up to see that Snape had gone back to reading a Potions journal while sitting stiffly in a battered cushioned chair adjacent to the couch. Fred relaxed. Snape had meant it when he said Fred could come to the dungeons whenever he needed to get away from everyone, just to sit and think.  
  
"I asked Harry to make Neville the new Beater," he said suddenly into the silence.  
  
Snape lowered his journal and cocked an eyebrow. "Longbottom? Isn't that putting the entire Quidditch field at an increased risk for deadly hazards?"  
  
Fred started to glare, but then realized suddenly that somewhere deep beneath Snape's frown and icy mask was amusement. It was an amazing epiphany - Snape was joking! Who would have thought? Fred grinned. "Truthfully, he's not as good as John Ross, but I'd rather work with him than anyone else. Neville. . .has a way of understanding. I don't know. He's changed a lot lately." He was surprised to see Snape nodding.  
  
"War changes everyone. It brings out their true natures." Fred supposed this was true. Students who before had acted confident now spent their days whimpering and cowering in fear, while previously unnoticed students like Neville were slowly becoming heroes in their own right. "It's something we all must deal with."  
  
Everyone was changing, Fred thought. It wasn't just him. Who would he be now? Even his family thought that he didn't exist outside of George, as if apart they were only half a person. How could he be a full person if everyone treated him like he was only half of one? Maybe they were right. He buried his face in his hands so Snape wouldn't see. Maybe he didn't actually exist. He was half a person, a ghost as much as George was.  
  
He felt arms slip comfortingly around his shoulder. Snape. Damn the man. He leaned his head on Snape's shoulder and closed his eyes. Snape held him tighter. He felt like doing something drastic - maybe poisoning the whole school, much like Snape had done to his family. He could just imagine everyone's surprised expression, their exclamations, "But he was so nice!" No one had any idea just how mean he could be. George knew.  
  
With that last thought, all his self-control disappeared. He cried.  
  
* * * * * * * * * * * *  
  
Two different children, on opposite sides of the castle, sat alone that night. One of them gazed longingly into a mirror, glad for the end-of- holidays distractions that kept everyone else out of the dorm rooms. The other sat in a tower full of moonlight, shivering in the icy blasts of wind that the passing blizzard blew into the gaping windows. One's attention was riveted inside a glass, captured by the magic inside. The other was reading the same book that had been read again and again since first finding it at the beginning of the year, completely captivated by the magic inside. Each was sure they weren't being manipulated. Both were wrong.  
  
Their fates would soon intertwine, and neither of them was aware of the other's silent pain. Neither of them was yet aware of their power to help the other. Thinking themselves alone, they watched and read in silence, Harry with his mirror and Eliza with her book.  
  
The blizzard raged on outside, unnoticed by both.  
  
* * * * * * * * * * * *  
  
[A/N: Credits:  
  
-there really is a myth of Dreamtime, but I have twisted it to serve my fanatical needs; my description is in no way accurate or even remotely true  
  
-many words are simply nonsense syllables: Ha'Ran, Ol'Ran, Lin, Ran. . .  
  
-Ayn is in tribute to Ayn Rand, who is a great author and a genius - crazy and pretentious, yes, but a genius nonetheless.  
  
-Carol Berg is a fantastic author; she has written a trilogy of fantasy books about a man who can grow wings when he enters portals into people's minds to fight demons who try to possess people - I thought it fitting that she write the books of more winged people  
  
-Bester is a reference to Alfred Bester, who CastleRock will assure you is a genius; I reserve judgment.  
  
-John Ross is the main character in Terry Brooks' The Word and the Void trilogy.  
  
See, I'm just full of literary allusion! Thanks to everybody who reviewed:  
  
LisaViola: Yes, we will see the mirror again. I try not to just randomly introduce things without using them. There were a good maybe 20 chapters when I forgot it was there and that I had more plans in store for it. Eliza: well, we'll learn more about her; oh yes, we will shortly become extremely intimate with her twisted psyche. . . (I'm not saying any more on the subject ( ). As to who will get Llian? Well, I don't know if there will ever be an answer because people constantly change. If she does get him now, she might not twenty years ahead, and if she doesn't now, I may give him to her in the Epilogue, which will take place ten years later. . . We'll see. . .  
  
MegMeg, the one and only: Yes, the whole Fred/Snape relationship will develop a bit, but it won't be slash or anything. It will be more how they can help each other change for the better - sounds cheesy, eh?  
  
CastleRock: You're a slut, go away. I'm just kidding. I was going to have the relatives fart while they were bobbing around in midair instead of burping, but it would probably become so smelly that everyone would suffocate. Orlando, sorrowfully, will remain dead. . .but he could possibly come back into the story, if only briefly. . .  
  
Thanks to those few brave souls who are willing to let me put them in my story. If anyone else wants a cameo appearance, let me know and I'll see if you fit!] 


	45. Healing

46. Healing

A second-year Hufflepuff girl began screaming.  She stood up from the table and hid her face with her hands.  Her skin was slowly becoming gray and crinkled, like an elephant's.  A seventh-year Ravenclaw and fourth-year Slytherin soon joined her, and before the Great Hall had time to laugh, cry, or throw food, half of the school's population grew gray skin that sagged around their faces and elbows like an empty sack.

"What the bloody hell-" Dean exclaimed as his skin too started to droop.

"I'm going to kill whoever did this!" Lavender shrieked, trying to hide her wrinkled face from Colin, who had his camera with him.

Colin shrugged when Pavarti glared at him.  "I was going to take pictures of the hippogriphs Hagrid's going to show us in Care of Magical Creatures," he explained.  But all the girls around him seemed convinced he had somehow managed to turn their skin wrinkly just by virtue his also having a camera.

"If you dare take a picture of me like this, I will kill you!" Lavender threatened, her voice rising to a wail.

"Students!" Professor Dumbledore spoke loudly before a full-blown riot could ensue.  "No doubt a certain someone in the audience thought this would be a grand welcome for the first day after the holidays.  I applaud their achievements."  His eyes twinkled.  "However, those of you who find themselves with a strange skin ailment please proceed to the hospital wing and so we may get you fixed up for class."

There was a mad rush for the door, mostly by girls who had thought only that morning that all they'd have to worry about was another outbreak of zits.  Hermione snickered at their departure.  Harry raised an eyebrow at her behavior; she usually disapproved of pranks or rule-breaking.  

The hall was a lot quieter and had only half of its former occupants by the time the afflicted left.  Eliza looked up from the book she was reading and was surprised to see that Ginny and Neville, who had been seated on either side of her, had left.  "What happened?" she asked June, who sat across from her.

"Someone turned half the school into elephants," she said, picking at her oatmeal.

"Oh," Eliza said, turning back to her book.  She reached out a hand to pour herself some orange juice when Hermione shouted out and grabbed the pitcher from her.

"Everyone who turned gray had been drinking orange juice," Hermione explained.  A few girls down the table who had just poured themselves a glass spat orange glop all over the table and quickly rushed out of the hall.  "How did you manage to put whatever it is you used into the orange juice of four different tables?" Hermione asked over her shoulder.

Harry's eyes widened at first but then realized that she wasn't talking to him.  He turned around to find. . .

"Fred!"  The red-head was grinning from ear to ear, pleased with his accomplishment.

He leaned back in his chair and heaved a leg onto the table, balancing precariously on one leg of the chair.  "It was quite easy," he said casually.  "Every one was dragging me around to different tables telling me how they were sooo sorry about my dear brother.  It happened to occur to me that not only was their drink unguarded, but it was unadulterated as well.  You see, there was no way I could leave without remedying the problem."  Harry was glad Ron was one of the afflicted and had already left.  He thought he would die from laughter right now if he could see the look on his best friend's face at hearing his brother's confession.

"That was rather rude," Eliza said, her nose still in her book.

Fred shrugged.  "I'm a rude person."

"But – why?" Harry spluttered.

"It was getting downright depressing around here," Fred said.  "George would be seriously disappointed in me if he knew that I wasn't keeping up our good reputation.  Without him I'll just have to work twice as hard."  His words were light but they could see from him face that he was deadly serious.  "Who else is going to keep Hogwarts on their toes?"  With an evil, very Fred-like look on his face, his left the table whistling tunelessly.

Eliza groaned.  "I'm never going to eat anything again while he's in sight."  They all nodded.

*          *          *          *          *          *          *          *          *          *          *          *

It was unnaturally warm outside for early February.  All the snow that had built up melted under the large sun outside and turned into a muddy mush which soon coated the hallways of Hogwarts, much to Filch's dismay.  Fred charmed the entrance hall so that the thin slime of water turned into ice and students enjoyed skating back and forth, frequently tripping over each other and dropping books and papers everywhere.  It was a mess, but a happy mess.

Neville was tempted to think that Hogwarts had gone back to normal, until he realized there was no such thing as "normal" at his school.  Fred had resumed his occupation as resident-mischief-maker with a zeal that put any other hooligans to shame.  Even Lee Jordan couldn't keep up with the amount of havoc that the red-head had single-handedly created.  

Neville thought about the coming journey to visit the Volari with Llian quite frequently.  It still seemed ridiculous that he go with Llian.  Besides being Llian's best friend, there wasn't much else that distinguished Neville from anyone else, except for his incredibly bad luck and knack of tripping over things.  Damnation!  It made sense, really it did, but Neville would still rather stay at Hogwarts with June.  It had been foretold that June would have to go on her own journey, but that she would have to go alone.  This scared Neville.

June was going to die.  He wanted to stay with her forever.  It hadn't escaped his thoughts that June could die on her journey.  Maybe she was meant to die, and if Neville was there he would stop that from happening.  Maybe that was why Florean had gotten the prediction – to get Neville out of the way.  It was only speculation, but it still worried him.  He couldn't wait until he and Llian left.  The sooner they left, the sooner they could return.  His professors had already been piling schoolwork on him so he wouldn't be left in the dust by his classmates while he was gone.

Everyone had been trying to help Neville, but he could see the question in their eyes: why was he going?  Even half the third years at Hogwarts would be more useful than he.  He was quickly falling into the pits of self-loathing and self-deprecation.  Eliza had given him two books by Carol Berg on Volari and Ran bearers, Llian and June had been grilling him about Volari customs, Harry had been giving him flying lessons and grilling him on defensive curses, Professor Sprout had been teaching him about the kinds of plants he would encounter, and Hermione had been tutoring him in charms.  He let them help him, but he couldn't help thinking that it was hopeless.  He was worthless, that's all there was to it.

"Hey Neville!"  He had been so immersed in thought that he wasn't watching where he was going.  It was Cho, who was waving to him over her shoulder.  She was walking between Llian and June.  Rachel, Cho's Ravenclaw friend, was a step behind, looking a bit miffed.

He caught up with them.  "Hi June."

Llian shook his head.  "That's just plain rude," he said.  "Cho said hi to you and the only person you greet is June."

Cho giggled.  "He can't help it."  She had curled her arm around Llian's as she rested her head on his shoulder.  "He's in love."

June snorted.  She found Cho to be a bit too "girlie" for her taste, but admitted that Llian could have picked worse.  At least Cho was a Ravenclaw, and smart.  June thought intelligence was second in virtue only to bravery.  She reached up to pet Oliver, who was sitting on her shoulder, his sharp claws digging into her robe so he wouldn't fall as she walked.

"Are you excited?" Llian asked Neville, his eyes shining.

Neville didn't have to ask what he was talking about.  Llian had been talking nonstop about the journey to anyone who would listen, but only to the select few who knew of it.  Dumbledore didn't exactly want to broadcast it around the school that he was again vying for Volari participation.

"Excited about what?" Cho asked.  Rachel narrowed her eyes suspiciously.

"About the upcoming Quidditch match, of course," he answered smoothly, winking at Neville.

"Excited about loosing?" Cho purred.  Hufflepuff was facing Ravenclaw that weekend, and for the first time in centuries Hufflepuff was favored to win.  If they won this match they could upset Gryffindor as the favorite for the Quidditch cup.

"You wish," Llian threatened, suddenly serious.  He took Quidditch fairly seriously.  

"Just don't be disappointed when my house completely wipes yours off of the Quidditch field."

They continued to banter back and forth about who would cream who during the match.  June reached out to squeeze Neville's hand as they only half-listened to the conversation.  Neville would face his first match nearly a month later, once Llian and he were back from their trip.  He could just picture everyone jeering, especially the Slytherins.  When Draco found out that Neville was the new Beater he hadn't delayed in loudly making several rude comments involving half-Squibs and fat boys who shouldn't be allowed to fly lest they break their brooms.  Neville felt his blood boil every time he thought about the Slytherin's catcalls.  He would show them at the match.  They would pay for the years of making his life miserable.

"Where do you think Madame Pomphrey and the rest went?" Neville whispered into June's ear.

She shrugged.  "I don't know, but I have a hunch.  I think it has something to do with your trip."  Professors Dumbledore, McGonagall, and Sprout had gone with the school nurse for the day to London.  It was extremely unusual for them to leave, but Neville had figured it had something to do with the war on Voldemort.

"The trip?" he squeaked.  What could they possibly be doing?

"Yes.  You didn't really think they'd be sending you and Llian off on your own, do you?  Some people are going with you."

"Who?"

"I don't know.  This is just speculation on what I overheard when Dumbledore stopped by the dungeons to talk to papa last night.  I think you guys are bringing some Aurors and mercenaries to defend against attacks, and a couple healers."

"Mercenaries?  Healers?  I don't like the sound of this."  The trip that before hadn't seemed all that big a deal was now blown out of proportion.  Suddenly it seemed a lot more dangerous.

"They're just to protect you guys and help if anything should happen.  If Voldemort gets wind of what you're doing. . .he'll try to stop you."  She didn't need to voice what she was really thinking.  If Voldemort knew what they were planning he would eliminate them without mercy.

Oliver suddenly jumped onto Cho's shoulder and pulled one of her large silver-hooped earrings out of her ear.  Before Cho could react, he jumped to the ground and ran towards the stairs, turning around at the top to stick out his tongue at her.  "Why you little. . ." Cho muttered as she sped towards him.

He jumped away and back onto June's shoulder.  June giggled.  "I guess the moral of the story is that earrings are stupid," she said.  

Cho made a face.  "Tell him to give it back."

"Give it back Olie."  Oliver made a rude gesture and stuck one end of the earring in his mouth.

"What's the bastard doing to my earring?" Cho asked.

Llian put a hand on her shoulder.  "It's just an animal, Cho, relax.  It's what pets do; they sometimes do stupid things.  It's not that he's mean-spirited."

Neville snorted.  Oliver was the meanest-spirited little beast he had ever had the displeasure of meeting.  June wouldn't agree though; she couldn't see past the fact that her pet was furry and cute.  Llian's view of animals and people was overly optimistic.  He thought everyone was nice, deep down inside, even Death Eaters.  He thought that the darkness in himself was an aberration.  Llian was just plain strange.  "Maybe he's going to eat it," Neville suggested.

But Oliver took the end of the earring out of his mouth and hurled himself at Neville.  "Wha-"  Neville stepped back, his arms flailing, and would have fallen down if Llian hadn't caught him.  Oliver burrowed into his chest pocket, fitting quite easily since the creature was smaller than Neville's hand.  He slipped back out again without the earring.

"Is it a present for you?" June asked.  "Has Oliver gotten sweet on you?"  She petted the pink creature as it settled once more on her shoulder after climbing up her robe.

"No, it's gotten sweet on Lacy."  He reached in his pocket and pulled out Lacy, who had been curled up inside, sleeping.  She blinked sleepily.  She was holding on to the earring with her deformed paws.  Neville held the baby squirrel in both hands and they watched in puzzlement as she tentatively licked the earring.

"What is she doing?" June exclaimed.  "Isn't she part werewolf?  Werewolves are allergic to silver.  It hurts them to touch it.  Take it away from her!"

Neville wrinkled his brow.  "She doesn't look like she's in pain.  Unless she's a masochist."  Suddenly, Lacy opened her jaws wide and bit off the end of the earring.

"Ahh!!"  Cho shrieked and tried to grab the earring but before she could Lacy had shoved half of it into her mouth and chewed it off.  "She's eating it!  The little bitch!"  Neville glared at her but didn't say anything.  "What the hell?"

"Aren't you going to take it back?" Rachel asked as she stood on tiptoe to peer over Llian's shoulder.  

"It's ruined now," she answered bitterly.  "She can have the damn thing."  

Llian looked mildly surprised at Cho's outburst.  "It's just an earring.  I can buy you another one."

"I liked the ones I had," she said icily.  "And if your dear sister didn't have such strange choice in pets I would have both pairs and not need new earrings."

June glared back.  "They were ugly anyway," she said.  Neville closed his eyes, not wanting to see Cho's reaction to June's lack of tact.  June felt honesty was a virtue but Neville thought it was about time she learned otherwise.

"Well, really!" Cho huffed.  "I don't see _you_ as being any authority of fashion."

"I don't know what you mean," June said, trying to step away.

"Well, look at you.  Your robes are smudged and wrinkled, you couldn't fix your hair to save your life, you don't even _know_ how to put on make-up-"

"Make-up is for mortals," June said airily.  It was a typical June reaction, but it only incensed Cho more.  Rachel inched closer, looking vindictive and extremely glad that Cho was trying to tell off June.

"Ha!  You barely have any friends at all – the only people who will hang around you are housemates who feel sorry for you!"  It was true that June was a loner.  Neville was very close to smacking Cho, but something held him back.  He knew Cho's outburst was from pent up jealously.  Cho was angry that Llian spent so much time with his sister; he always invited June along when he and Cho went anywhere together.  "You can't get along with anyone!  All you do is scare people away.  The only guy you can manage to attract is Neville Longbottom!"

"Hey!"  Llian gripped Cho's arm so hard that she let out a small wail.  "That's enough!  What's wrong with you?  I like June just the way she is."  'Didn't argue with anything she said, did you?' Neville noticed.

"Well, you would. . ." Cho said, her words faltering.  She looked embarrassed.  She tried to turn to Rachel for support but her friend was currently trying to blend in with the wall.  She took a few steps away before turning back.  Her face was red.  "Look, I'm really sorry, I just blew up.  It's not just the earring.  I don't know, I've been really stressed lately."  She bit her lip.  "I didn't mean anything I said.  I'm just. . .I was just angry."

June nodded, still hurt, but willing to accept any apology Cho offered for Llian's sake.  "Maybe you're period's coming," she suggested.  Cho turned beet red.  June really needed those lessons in tact.  "And your earrings _were_ ugly.  Maybe I can go with you when you shop for new ones."  One of the muscles above Cho's left eye twitched, but she managed to hold her tongue.  Frankly Neville was surprised that their animosity had held off this long.  They were opposites in a lot of ways, not enough for them to hate each other outright, but just enough that they continually grated on each other's nerves.

Neville looked down at Lacy, who had just finished chewing and swallowing the last of the earring.  "At least we know what she eats now."  They had been trying fruitlessly for over a month to figure out what Lacy ate, giving the red haired weresquirrel everything from berries to deer meat.  

Neville let himself fall a couple of steps behind as they started down the stairs together towards the library.  June might let herself forgive Cho, and Llian may overlook her faults, but Neville wasn't so quick so forget what the Ravenclaw had said.  It seemed she had a deep-seated grudge against June that wasn't going to resolve itself spontaneously, no matter how many apologies were made.  

Cho jumped down the steps by two, laughing as if nothing had happened.  Llian had turned to talk to Rachel and June was playing with Oliver, who looked mutinous from the attention and was probably about to bite her and bolt away.  None of them were watching when Cho slipped.

There was a sudden shriek beneath them and they looked in time to see Cho tumble the rest of the way down the stairs.  When Neville had read about such things happening in books, he expected it to be a long, arduous process.  But it was less than a second before Cho was at the bottom of the steps, not even enough time to bring his wand out of his pocket, much less enough time to cast a charm to help her.  

For a fraction of a second, Llian stared in disbelief at the empty spot where Cho had been, and then flew down the stairs.  Neville had a violent urge to be sick when he neared the bottom of the stairs.  One of Cho's arms had been broken: the bone was pushed out at the elbow, blood flowing out onto the stone floor.  Her neck was bent at an unnatural angle and obviously broken.  Her eyes were glazed over.

Crowds of students started to gather.  "What are you doing!" Neville shrieked at them.  "Someone get Madame Pomphrey!"

"She's not here," a voice said behind him.  It was Hermione.  She took in the situation quickly and pushed Llian out of the way.  "I've read a lot about healing charms.  It won't be the same, but. . ."  She went to work immediately.

"Some one get Dumbledore, or McGonagall!" he snapped to the gathering crowd.  Didn't these students have anything better to do than gawk?  It was amazing how so many people could appear in a hallway that seconds before could seem deserted, as if they were attracted to tragedy by some unseen force.

"They aren't here!" a first year Hufflepuff reminded him as she wiped her eyes on her sleeves.

Damn!  "Someone, find any teacher!  Anyone!  Go!"  A few people left the small crowd to run down the halls.  Someone put a hand on his arm.  "What are you-"

Hermione shook her head, letting a few tears spill down her cheeks.  She tilted her head and whispered into his ear, "I can't help her."

"Why not?  Try again.  You have to help her, at least until a teacher comes-"

"I don't know if they'll be able to do anything either.  Neville, her neck is broken.  I scanned her body.  Her spinal cord has been ripped out of her skull.  There's no hope of recovery.  The only thing surprising is that she's still alive."

"Oh, Merlin!"

"Unconscious," she assured him.  "She won't regain consciousness."  Her calm demeanor started to slip as her lips trembled trying to hold in her sobs.  Draco suddenly appeared besides her.  He kept a disdainful look on his face, but quickly reached out to touch Hermione's hand.  He could do no more, not in public when his two watchers were observing him.

"Can't Llian. . .June. . .I thought Volari have great healing powers."

Hermione looked vexed.  "I'm telling you there's no way to help her.  Besides, Llian's specialty is transfiguration and potions, not charms.  And June's powers are great but they can only destroy, not heal."  Neville winced at her painfully accurate assessment.

"You're wrong!  She's still alive, isn't she?"  Hermione nodded.  "Then she can be helped."  

"Merlin save us all.  And what are you going to do, you fat git?" Draco said loudly enough for those listening to their conversation to hear.

Neville spun around to face Draco.  "I'm going to heal her," he hissed.  The students curiously listening drifted away, not wanting to hear Neville's reaction.  'Glad to know you all think I'm as incompetent as Draco says I am,' he thought bitterly.

Draco glanced around to make sure his Slytherin companions weren't listening and leaned closer to Neville.  "Hermione says you can't heal her.  She knows what she's talking about.  You'll only give Llian false hope.  It will just make it more painful."  Neville stared at him unbelievingly.  "He won't be able to accept this if his best friend can't."

Neville ignored him.  What right did Draco have to say such things?  He kneeled at Cho's head, between Rachel and Llian who were blind to anything else but their grief.  "Move away," he commanded, his voice suddenly steel.  They looked up and blinked in confusion, having no intention of moving.  

June reached down and tugged their collars.  "Do as he says," she begged them.  "He's going to heal her."  She said it with such conviction that Neville knew she had to be telling the truth.  He was going to heal Cho.  He was really, really going to do it.

He put a hand on either side of her neck and closed his eyes, feeling his way through her body with his mind, just like Harry had been teaching him.  He found where her neck was torn – the damage was as extensive as Hermione had predicted.  The lines of power running from her head to the rest of her body were twisted and distorted.  He gently started to pry them apart, seeing nothing but the small detail in front of him.  He slowly reconnected, painstakingly inch by inch, what had been broken.  He went down the pathways of light one by one.  He did this instinctually, not even knowing what it was he was seeing or doing.  He had no words for these lines and shapes surrounding him.  There was nothing else besides him and this world of light.  Cho and the crowd of students and Hogwart's cold floors didn't exist here – they never existed.  

He didn't know how long he had been here.  He was here now and that was all that mattered.  He continued to straighten the lines, reveling in the power that each contained, amazed at this world.  This was him.  This was the real him.  There was nothing else.

The light brightened and overtook him, flooding his senses like a train bearing down on him.  He let it take him.  It smothered him and he was released from its grasp into cool darkness.

*          *          *          *          *          *          *          *          *          *          *          *

He woke to someone laying a damp cloth on his forehead.  "Hhmmm," he sighed.  He tried to make his lips form words but they were stuck together.  His entire body was numb.  He couldn't feel his hands or his toes.  He could barely feel his forehead.  Everything was far away and disconnected.

He tried to open his eyes but was assaulted with sharp light that made his head feel like it was going to explode.  "Light," he muttered.

"Sorry," June's voice said.  He could tell through his eyelids that the light was being dimmed.  When tried to open his eyes again there was only one candle burning across the room.  His eyes refused to focus.  He couldn't keep them open more than a few seconds at a time.  He opened and shut them several times, trying to look around.  His head wouldn't turn.  "Where?"

"You're in the hospital wing.  You drained your powers so much you nearly killed yourself.  Madame Pomphrey's in a right fit about you."

"Cho. . ."

"Cho's fine.  You healed her."

"I. . ."

"That's right.  But you didn't draw back; you almost got stuck there."

"Stupid," he murmured.  Harry and June had been trying to train him to use his mind more accurately, to briefly leave his body.  It was a useful skill to have.  Being in the forest on an unknown path, for instance, you could look ahead for dangers.  But they had warned him again and again that he could be stuck that way, half in one world, half in the other, if he didn't consciously pull himself back.  No one else was able to pull another back – he would have to remember to do it on his own or the power required to use his mind in that way would eventually drain his body of life.

"It's okay," she assured him.  "It was your first time.  It was fantastic really.  You're a natural."  Neville twisted his lips into a small grin.  A natural.  It wasn't something he heard often.  Everything small accomplishment he made in life, he had had to work for, often gruelingly.  "Harry pulled you back."

His mind spun.  "But."  He couldn't say more than one word at a time.  It was frustrating.  At least his eyes were starting to focus on June's sweet face.  He reached up a hand to brush back a hair from her forehead and was pleased to find that he was regaining feeling in his body.

"Harry's good with portals," she explained.  "I doubt there are more than a handful of people in the world who can do what he did.  He went into her mind and then opened one back into your body.  Incredibly hard."  She looked over her shoulder.  Neville followed her eyes and saw that Harry was sleeping on the bed next to him.

"Is he."  Breath.  "Okay?"  His voice was weak and raspy.

"He's fine.  He's just resting.  Madame Pomphrey gets a bit crazy sometimes.  She's making all three of you stay 'for observation.'  I think she's really just mad that you took away all her healing from her."  June grinned, then looked ashamed.  "That was a horrible thing for me to say.  Cho could have died.  She's not any close friend of mine or anything, but still. . ."  She looked further down the row of beds to where Cho lay curled up in a ball, her hands resting underneath her cheeks.  Her arm was bandaged.  Neville had forgotten about her arm, but assumed that Pomphrey had fixed it.  

Neville sighed.  "Who would have thought?" he whispered.

She leaned closer, snuggling her nose against his cheek.  "What?"

"That all those things Harry taught me, and all the healing books I've read, and the charms that Professor Flitwick taught me would all come together for this.  Amazing.  It was Harry, then, that really saved her life.  If he hadn't taught me. . ."

"Nonsense.  You did those things instinctually.  We didn't teach you anything like that, we only taught you how to use it for observation.  What you did can't be taught."

He didn't answer.  

"Go back to sleep," she said.  She rubbed his stomach with her thin hand.  It tickled, making him snort and chuckle.  "Does that ickle?"

"Ickle?"  He was too weary to listen to any more of June's antics.

"Ickle.  It's halfway between a tickle and an itch."

Neville grinned.  He loved June.  "Yes, it ickles. . ."  He closed his eyes and fell back asleep.

*          *          *          *          *          *          *          *          *          *          *          *

[A/N: Well, I had planned to get to the Quidditch match today, because some _very_ interesting things happen there, but this scene took too long.  For those of you who haven't pieced it together, _this_ is why Neville is being brought along on the trip – Florean's prophecy could see what everyone else was too blind to notice, mainly that Neville's a badass when it comes to healing.  Did I just randomly introduce this or will it become vital to the plot later on?  Take a guess.

**Shahanna**: thanks for loan of your character, who will soon appear, and for helping me keep my happy italics!

**purely**** psychotic: I'm sorry my story is so confusing.  The twisted part is intentional, though, I assure you.  It stems from my own deep-seated perversion.  I'm glad you question June's death.  Technically, they just know that she "does not appear in the future", so if she disappeared into dreamtime (the alter-dimension, not the story) then she could still live _and what they foresaw will still come true.  But I'm not changing my mental outline of the story.  You're correct, however, in assuming that there'll be a few surprises along the way!  (hee, hee)_**

P.S.  I've updated my author bio so it accurately reflect my life.  OR I was bored.  You decide.]


	46. Preparation

47. Preparation

"Harry!  What were you thinking?"

Harry took a deep breath and pulled himself off the floor where he had fallen.  He sat panting, his head hung down so far that the famous scar on his forehead almost touched the stone beneath him.  Sirius, in dog form, nuzzled Harry's head with his wet nose, a whine rising in his throat.  Three concerned faces hovered over him.  Eliza looked curious whereas June was just plain shocked.  Florean looked furious.

"What the hell was that?" he screamed in Harry's face.  Still weak, he couldn't stop trembling as he flinched from Florean's assault.

June tried to put a calming hand on the older man's shoulder, but he threw it off.  "Florean. . ."

"You could have been killed!" Florean continued.  He had dropped his usual pleasant manner and now looked almost as fearsome as Voldemort himself, or Dumbledore when he was in a rage.  Harry could feel the tickle of magic in the air, floating around Florean's deep green aura like a halo.  It stung his skin like static electricity; the hairs on his arms stood straight up.  "How many times have I told you?  You DO NOT go into dreamtime unless you have _total and _complete_ concentration!  If June hadn't been there to save you, you could have drifted away, lost forever.  There's no excuse for that kind of sloppiness – none!"  Florean shook with fury; Harry guessed that it was largely fueled by worry.  Florean cared deeply about his students – he would give his life away before allowing any of them to become harmed._

June tried to settle things again.  She didn't like disagreements.  They made her nervous.  "Harry's tired, Florean.  We're all tired."

"That's no excuse for the crap he pulled.  You're becoming sloppy.  It's a trend that's been escalating since Christmas."  He unfolded his arms and softened considerably, pulling the still-trembling Harry into a rib-breaking hug.  Sirius put his huge paws on Harry's back and licked his cheek.  He couldn't transform into human shape with everyone around, but Harry could see in his eyes that he longed to be the one holding his godson.

Harry managed a weak apologetic grin at his worried godfather and ruffled the fur on Sirius's head.  True to his word, Sirius had stayed close to Hogwarts ever since their confrontation at Christmas where Harry admitted that Sirius's absences were grieving him more than the man could know.  It was great having his godfather around.  It made him feel like he belonged somewhere, that he was loved – he could almost pretend to be normal with his small, make-shift family.  Sirius still left every now and then, but his trips were infrequent and short.  Harry was placated knowing that Sirius's absences weren't as empty and hollow as they used to be.  He had the mirror now; he could always be with the people he loved, even though they were never there.

The mirror.

He briefly considered telling Florean about the mirror, but he feared it would sound worse than it was.  He decided against it – it was irrelevant.  He was willing to admit, however, that it had gotten slightly out of hand.  But Sirius was back now so he was sure it would be alright.  The mirror was like candy: it feels good and you want more of it even though you know it's probably bad for you in the long run.  But neither was particularly addicting – he could spend three hours or three minutes in front of it.  It wasn't like there was a set amount of time it demanded from his life.

The mirror was flexible.

When Harry finally felt his numb limbs stop shaking, he pushed away from Florean and was able to stand with the help of both Florean and June.  He lowered himself into a chair, and the rest followed suit, seating themselves around the small round table where Florean's "tutoring" sessions occurred.  Sirius settled himself at Harry's feet.

Eliza was the one to break the tense silence.  "What happened?"

Harry stared at her blankly for a second.  There was something steadying about her: her emotionless face, her large hazel-green eyes.  She always seemed to be around when something went wrong.  He noticed, for the first time, that she was quite pretty.  "I'm not sure.  It was, er."  He found his throat constricting.  He was unable to continue.

Florean put his warm hand on Harry's clammy one.  "Start at the beginning; maybe you'll remember when you come to it."  Sirius tried to comfort Harry by rubbing the length of his furry body against the boy's leg.  He reached down to pet his godfather, hoping to assure him that everything was alright.

"The first part went fine.  I held the portal open just like I was supposed to."  They had been exploring portion of the Caves that Florean thought was safe.  The Caves were mysterious pocket-dimensions that formed small rips that resembled black holes in the farthest regions of dreamtime.  Among these Caves was one of the entrances to the Chamber of the Dead, and also the dimension of horror where the souls of Dementor's victims were sent.  "Well, June went on by herself for a bit, and I. . .I don't know.  I just started thinking, daydreaming I guess."  Harry cringed at the memory.  It sounded so horrible – he really had been a fool.  "I forgot about everything.  I can't explain it.  It was like I didn't connect to anything anymore, like I could just close my eyes and drift away.  I forgot where I was and what I was doing.  I started to close the portal on us both.  I could have killed June."  He stared guiltily at his hands.

Florean leaned forward.  "This isn't like you, Harry.  What could possibly be on your mind that distracted you this much from your mission?"

Harry shrugged.  "That's just it – there's nothing going on.  I mean, nothing really stressful at school, and there haven't been any Dark attacks since the Weasley's. . ."

"Is that it?  Is that what's still bugging you?  The Weasleys?"

Harry shrugged.  He honestly didn't know.  Did Florean mean the wreck or Mr. Weasley's arrest?

"What were you thinking about right before you drifted off?"

He had been thinking about the mirror, picturing his parents and Sirius re-united.  "I don't remember.  It must not have been anything important."  Florean's penetrating gaze wouldn't leave his own.  He felt himself shifting in his seat.  "What was it that attacked us?"

"Any of the countless wraiths who drift through dreamtime.  Normally they leave people like yourself alone, but they saw a prime opportunity to leech off the life force you were leaving unattended.  If you had closed the portal completely they would have stolen your mind and sucked the rest of your life away.  You would become one of them."

Harry shuddered.  He couldn't believe he could have been so foolish.  What could possibly cause him to forget where he was?  He had dozed off as if he were just sitting in his room.  It was ridiculous.

Florean sighed.  "Obviously we aren't going to get anything else done tonight.  Why don't you three get some sleep.  We can discuss further at a later time."  He leaned under the table to pet the dog, whispering, "And you, Snuffles, keep an eye on Harry."

They walked to the Gryffindor common room together.  Eliza wanted to chat with Ginny before heading off to her own houses dorms.  

"Is that all that happened?" Eliza asked.  Harry shrugged.  "What were you thinking when you drifted off?"

Harry glanced at her out the corner of his eye as they walked.  It was strange how her eyes were a murky reflection of his own.  Her skin seemed to glow in the dim torchlight.  She had been taking potions to relieve her hallucinations and disturbing nightmares, yet she was always the one who stayed calm when everyone else panicked.  Harry remembered how her face had been a mask after the Knight Bus was wrecked; he had been running around in a frenzy this way and that, trying to save who he could, mourn the loss of who he couldn't.  "Nothing important."

"It must have been if it could distract you that greatly."

"That's what's weird about it – it was just. . .I don't know, normal.  Nothing weird at all.  Just the normal things you'd think about while you're staring out the window."

Eliza stopped and turned on him.  "Define normal."  He laughed nervously.  "I'm serious.  What goes on inside your head, Harry Potter?  Because I'm fairly certain it's not 'normal' in any sense of the word."  She gave him a wry smile, tilting her head to the side as she studied his face.

Amazingly, he felt himself begin to blush.  "My head's pretty empty most of the time, to tell you the truth."  

She snorted.  "Of course – you're male."

June, for some reason, seemed annoyed by the whole conversation.  "He means he's a doer, not a thinker."  Harry looked at her quizzically.  "Some people, like Hermione, solve problems and get through difficulties by thinking about them.  Same for me and Eliza.  But people like Harry and Ginny get through things by just doing something – anything.  If we're upset, we'll isolate ourselves and think about it, but Harry would probably take his broom and go fly or else go for a run."

Eliza smiled.  "Of course – he's male."

June frowned.  "It's not that simple."  Her irritation was clearly building.

Harry put a hand on her shoulder.  "Relax, June.  Eliza's not being serious.  Why are you so uptight anyway?"  He immediately regretted the question.  "It's me, isn't it?  You're still upset that I almost trapped us in there?"

June shook her head.  "Harry, Harry.  Why are you always so anxious to take the blame?  You are the embodiment of the self-serving bias."

He wrinkled his brow and glanced at Eliza, who shrugged, uninterested.  

June continued.  "It means that people are more willing to take more credit than they actually deserve.  You always want more than your share of the blame.  Right Snuffles?"  Snuffles looked up and barked happily, wagging his tail.  "The thing is, you two worry me."

"How so?" Eliza asked, her eyes narrowing.

"I don't know.  I can see something in your auras.  Both of yours have been darkening, graying. . .I don't know.  It's a subtle change, but it started _before_ Christmas for Eliza, and _after_ Christmas for Harry.  Unlike Florean, I don't think this is any kind of delayed reaction from. . .from. . ."

They nodded quickly.  She wasn't able to talk about the Knight Bus wreck with ease.  Talk about taking the blame, Harry thought.  She still blamed herself for their being on the bus, though it had likely saved most of the Weasley's lives.

Speaking of the devil. . .

Bill came out of door a few classrooms down, whistling merrily.  He stopped short when he saw the three kids and dog.  "What are you lot doing wandering around the castle late at night?  Especially you, Harry – I would think you'd know better."

"We're coming back from a tutoring session with Florean."

"Oh, yeah. . ."  He rubbed the back of his neck.

"And what were you doing wandering around the castle late at night?" Eliza asked, comfortable enough with her best friend's older brother to tease him.

He grinned sheepishly.  "Talking."  After extracting a promise from them not to dawdle on the way back to the common room, Bill walked off, humming to himself.

"Talking my fat ass," Eliza said, making June jump in shock to hear the Hufflepuff curse.  Bill had come out of Professor Delacour's office.  Eliza laughed.

When they got to the Gryffindor common room, they found that Ron and Neville were the only people still awake.  Hermione was slumped in a chair in the corner, a heavy book open on her lap as she snored softly.  June gave Neville a quick kiss and Ron a nod before heading to bed.

"Where's Ginny?" Eliza asked Ron.

"Sleeping," he answered, helping himself to another chocolate frog as he studied healing charms with Neville.  Ironically, Ron hated studying himself, but he was always willing to help a friend study, as he and Hermione had done last year to prepare Harry for the third task.

"Poop."  She sat down on the couch next to Harry and then jumped back up again.  "It's late and I want to finish two more books before tomorrow."

Harry grinned.  "Hermione would feel threatened if she heard you," he joked.  Eliza rolled her eyes.  "Between you, June, and Hermione, I think you guys have read the entire Hogwarts library."

Eliza lifted her eyebrows, mimicking Llian's Snape-like gesture.  "A noble accomplishment, and one I hope to accomplish someday – _on my own_!"  She started towards the door.  Harry followed her.  "What?" she demanded.

"Do you think it's safe to walk across the castle this late by yourself?"

Eliza smiled thinly.  "I appreciate your concern, but I'm a big girl."

"Eliza. . ." he said as she swung the portrait open.  "Are. . .Is anything wrong?"

Her face was blank.  "No.  Why?"

"You just look like you haven't been getting a lot of sleep lately."  He shifted his weight awkwardly.

"Neither have you," she asserted dryly.  "So what's wrong with both of us?"

Harry sighed.  "Just. . .take care of yourself, okay?"  He reached out and squeezed her hand.  "I just have a feeling. . .something's going to go on between us."

"Huh?"

"Or something's going to happen that involves both of us. . .It might have been a dream – I don't remember.  My dreams have been cloudy lately and hard to remember.  But you're in them."

"Not unclothed, I hope."

Harry sputtered.  "Not – not like that!"

She grinned wickedly.  "So you like 'em clothed?  You sicko."  He didn't answer.  "Ah, it's late.  My evil tongue is starting to take a life of its own."  She reached out a hand to touch Harry's cheek.  "You're sweet Harry, you really are.  You'd better take care of yourself too."  She was about to say something more but was interrupted by someone clearing their throat.  It was Ginny, her red hair tangled and eyes bloodshot from sleep.  She looked furious.

"You'd better be going," she said.  Eliza stared at her unblinkingly.  Harry wrinkled his brow.  What was going on?

Eliza's calm eyes went back to Harry.  "I'll see you later.  G'night."  She turned to Ginny, who looked like she was about to breathe fire.  "Goodnight Ginny."  Ginny made a noncommittal sound in her throat.

As soon as the portrait shut, Ginny glared at Harry.  "_I'm_ going to bed," she said, turning on her heels.  In a flash, she had disappeared up the stairs again.

He turned around to find the rest of the room examining him carefully and unabashedly.  "What was that all about?" he asked out loud.

Hermione sighed dramatically.  She had awoken and had been watching the exchange.  "You really are hopeless, you know that Harry?"

He shrugged.  "How so?  Is something upsetting Ginny?"

"It's called jealously, my friend," Ron informed him.  "It seems to be a disease that afflicts the female population of our species."  He grinned widely, ignoring Neville, who had just coughed into his hands what sounded suspiciously like "Draco!"

Harry shook his head.  Why should Ginny be jealous of Eliza?  Didn't she know that appearing in his dreams was a bad thing, not something good?  He was too tired to think anymore.  He needed to sit for a good half an hour in front of the mirror to calm down.  He was about to start up the staircase when he remembered his promise to himself to take control.  Instead he sat down in front of the fire next to Sirius.  He curled up into a ball and rested his head on the dog's body, hearing the rapid heart beat beneath all the fur, letting his head rise and fall with each breath Sirius took.  He closed his eyes and drifted off again.

*          *          *          *          *          *          *          *          *          *          *

A voice whispered in her ear.  Eliza turned her head to find a giant shadow that encompassed the whole wall.  "Is it time?" she asked.

"It will be.  Soon."

"You'll help me, you promise?"

It shifted it's darkness within itself.  "I promise.  You must help Harry, too."

She nodded.  "The same thing afflicts us both, doesn't it?"

"Of course," it lied.  "By doing as I ask you may save him."

'I'm only doing this to save him,' she told herself.  'I have to save him.  I have to help him as much as I would help Llian.'  She looked up again to find the shadow gone.  It would be back, and together they would help each other.

She watched a trickle of blood flow down the wall.  If she looked directly at the stone wall she could see a face just underneath the clock.  She tried not to look at it directly.  If the face knew that she could see it, it would begin speaking to her.

The window began to moan.  "Quiet," she hissed, but it continued.  None of the other girls in the room could hear it, but it was probably because they were asleep.  She pulled the drapes shut tight around her bed so no light would escape.  "Lumos," she whispered.  She was startled to see Harry sitting on the other end of the bed.  His face was drawn and thin, as always, but in the dim light it looked positively skeletal.

"Harry?"  His eyes looked black.  The dark circles under his eyes gave them the appearance of gaping holes in the middle of his face.  He crawled across the bed towards her and she was suddenly gripped with dread.  This was a hallucination.  It wasn't real.

But when he reached out to stroke her hair she could feel it.  She could feel it when he pressed his death-like face close to hers and kissed her as if he were a Dementor after her soul.  'Such romantic thoughts,' she told herself.  HisHis lips were rough and chapped.  He licked her cheek as he brought his thin hands roughly through her hair.  Tears smarted the corners of her eyes.  He pulled back and looked her in the face.  Her earlier assessment had been right – his eyes really were holes.  Black holes.  She couldn't see anything behind them, just emptiness.  "Harry. . ."

He climbed out between the drapes.  Was he real?  She ripped back the drapes.  The room was empty save for the three girls fast asleep in their beds.

She closed the drapes again and lay facedown on the bed.  She hoped no one else would appear.  She needed to read some more.  The more she read, the more she'd understand.

She fished out 'The Prophecies of the Children of the Stars' from its hiding place in the wall behind her bed and settled down for a long night.

*          *          *          *          *          *          *          *          *          *          *

Llian screamed and jumped in the air simultaneously.  He looked under the table to sigh with relief.  "It's only you, Oliver!  Geez, I thought it was another rat."  The pink beast strode proudly out from under the table and jumped up into June's lap.

"Another?" Ron squeaked.  "There are rats in here?"

Llian looked around the library lovingly.  "Only one."

"Blimy.  I hate rats.  Almost as much as spiders."

"I hate rats too," Harry said, his face dark.  Llian looked at him for a second, wondering where the undertones were coming from.

"Don't worry – this was a pathetic rat.  It was balding."

Harry looked up suspiciously.  "Balding?"

"Yeah, it was missing a lot of fur.  Looks like someone cut off its food supply, too.  It looked like a really fat rat that had lost a lot of weight recently.  Poor little thing.  I wonder if it's okay."

"Was there anything unusual about this rat?" Hermione asked.

Llian was intimidated by the sight of the three Gryffindors leaning across the table towards him accusingly.  "What?  I don't know."  He threw up his hands.  He looked at June, but she didn't seem concerned.  "It was brown-grayish, watery kinda eyes.  Actually it was unusual – when we, Eliza and I, threw it outside, it just sat there by the window looking at us.  I don't know if it's really that weird.  It seemed weird.  Like it was really 'looking' at us, you know?"  He shrugged.  "Why?  Has someone lost a pet rat?"

The three shared an uncomfortable look.  Hermione spoke again, "Did it have any. . .abnormalities?"

"No, none at all."  They breathed a sigh of relief as one.  "It was missing one finger, but-"

"WHAT?!"

Harry stood.  "Where did you see it, exactly?"

Ron started pacing back and forth.  "We're probably over-reacting.  There have to be thousands of rats living in a place as big as Hogwarts, right?  They probably have their own kingdom underneath the school or something, right?  And a rat king, there's probably a rat king and they send up delegates to check over. . ."  He faltered, seeing Hermione's pointed glare, but finished his thought.   "So the chances that it was him are _very_ small."

Hermione shook her head.  "It was him.  I just know it!"  She ground her teeth in fury.

Llian, utterly and totally confused, relented to showing the three where he had seen it.  "It was coming through these shelves.  I don't know what's in this particular alcove – it's the Restricted Section back there."

Harry's face was hard.  "That's the Divination section."  He had spent countless hours back there riffling through journals.  He had never seen anything unusual.  He suddenly remembered a dream from long ago, of a book with dark angry swirls drifting out and encompassing the reader.  "June!  Do you have any Divination books checked out?"  She nodded.  "Give them to me."  She hesitated.  "Just do it.  And then go up to your room and find any that you have there, and any you left around the dungeon with Snape.  Meet me in Dumbledore's office."  She relented, tucking Oliver under an arm as she left.  "Llian can you ask Madame Pince not to let anyone check out any Divination books from the Restricted section?  I may be wrong, but we're better safe than sorry."  

Llian watched Harry gather his own Divination books.  "What are you doing?"

"I'm going to visit Florean, and then Dumbledore."  He left without explaining further, Ron and Hermione in tow, their presence a given.

Llian looked over his shoulder at the deserted table, Hermione's charms homework still strewn about, and left.

*          *          *          *          *          *          *          *          *          *          *

"Well?" Hermione demanded, grabbing June's arm as soon as she entered the common room.  The bushy-haired fifth year had been sent back before the final results had come in.

"Dumbledore, McGonagall, Papa, Madame Pince, and Florean checked all the books.  There weren't any enchantments."  Hermione sighed wearily.  She had obviously been pacing all afternoon waiting for them to return.  "_But there are several books that are missing."_

"But that's not a problem, as long as you don't have them."

"It _is_ a problem.  One of the first things you work into an enchantment is a memory charm, so the person being enchanted will forget that they're even reading the book, or they don't notice how they spend such a disproportionate amount of time reading.  Something of that variety.  So one of us could potentially have the book, only we don't know it.  There are also charms to avoid detection, that cloud the memory of anyone who sees the person reading."

"What are they doing?"

"Besides searching our rooms, watching us, and testing us, there isn't much.  They didn't find anything in either of our rooms.  We haven't talked with Eliza yet.  She disappeared a while back.  But when we do find her we'll have to search her too."  June slid wearily into a chair.  "Harry's their top priority," she said bluntly.  "Not that they don't care about us, but he's the biggest target.  He's still with Dumbledore and the rest.  He probably won't be back until late."

"They want to check him over before he leaves?"

"Leaves?"

"For the trip."

"That.  No, he's not going.  Llian and Neville are the only students going.  I think Harry might have gone, but with so much going on, and with his 'accident' last night. . ."

"They think something's wrong with him."

"Yes."

"Will Neville be okay without him?  Neville said something about Harry saving him when he healed Cho."

"Harry opened a portal so Neville could get back to his body.  Its nasty business when your mind becomes stuck outside your body.  Neville can do that on his own now.  Next time he'll remember how he got back and know instinctively what to do."  She looked at her watch.

"What do we do now?"

"We wait."

*          *          *          *          *          *          *          *          *          *          *

Llian entered Dumbledore's office expecting the worst.  He was sure it had something to do with whatever Harry and his crew were running around the castle for earlier.  But he found the office full of strange people, some of them in dark robes, others in gray healers robes, a couple carrying weapons.  They all became quiet when he entered, looking at him expectantly.  "Er, Professor Dumbledore, did you-"

"These are the people who will be accompanying you on your journey.  Because of recent events we've decided the trip cannot be delayed any longer.  It is crucial we connect to the Volari as soon as possible."

Llian saw Professor Snape hiding in the back by the fireplace.  "Papa, are you-"

"Professor Snape will be staying here.  I'm sorry Llian, but he has important work to do here that cannot be neglected.  Are you prepared?"

"Yes sir.  I hope so.  June's told me everything twice over.  I've grown up reading Ava's journals.  I'm ready."

The other people in the room still observed him critically.  He didn't like so many people judging him.  "I would introduce you now, but time is short.  It will have to wait."

"But – where did everyone come from?  I mean, how did you know who-"

"We hand-selected these people last weekend, if that is what you are worried about.  They can all be trusted.  Most of them were crucial in the fight against Voldemort fourteen years ago."

Llian gritted his teeth.  He wanted more information than that, but Dumbledore was obviously in a hurry.  He had never seen the old man so rushed.  "Please follow me; we have some details of packing to attend to."

"Packing?  Can't that wait?"

"Now is the time to make final preparations.  You will be leaving tonight."

*          *          *          *          *          *          *          *          *          *          *          *

[A/N: Ok, if you haven't figured out the reason for Eliza's insanity yet, you're a moron. 

I know that Voldemort gave Wormtail a new hand, but I'm going to pretend it was the opposite hand that he was missing a finger on, since it's such a nice way to identify the fury beast.

Up ahead: Neville and Llian go on a trip, June goes on a trip, Eliza goes on a trip, Harry goes on a trip – and then THE FINAL BATTLE!!  Yay, the end approaches!  I may even be able to finish this blasted monster within twenty more chapters!]


	47. Departure

[A/N: Behold a chapter entirely devoid of depression, suicide, mutilation, blood, death, agony, swearing, sex, spontaneous combustion, and psychoanalysis.  Enjoy it while you can. . .

I've edited the last conversation of this chapter from the original that I posted yesterday, just some parts that seemed inconsistent (and a place where I found that three paragraphs in a row started with "His eyes widened" – if they had gotten any wider they'd fall out.]

48. Departure

Harry was slumped over the table, fast asleep.  Drool gathered at the corner of his mouth and fell onto the arm of his robe.  Hermione and Ron sat to either side of him, finishing up his homework.  The ordeal in Dumbledore's office had left him exhausted, especially the slightly painful tests the professors had administered to rummage through his mind for enchantments.  Luckily, they found no signs that he was being subverted by Dark magic.  It had been a tiring process, but he had stubbornly refused to go to bed before finishing his homework.  His friends were surprised at his insistence.  He usually didn't care much for any work that didn't involve his broom or exploring dreamtime.  But June, who watched them from her seat on the window sill, knew that Harry wasn't concerned with his homework.  He was waiting for Neville, as was she.  The icy blasts of wind that pushed through the open window behind her felt good.  Despite the fact that she was wearing only a pair of jeans and a t-shirt, she didn't shiver.  She pretended she was an ice maiden, with alabaster skin and blue lips and a heart made of crystal shards.  She let the cold flow through her.

Finally, the portrait hole opened and Neville stumbled in, looking stunned.  June grinned.  Right now he looked more like the bumbling klutz she had first met, than the calm, hardened boy he had become.  It didn't matter to her – they were both sides of the same wonderful person.

He tiptoed past Harry and walked over to June.  As the gap between them narrowed, she felt her heartbeat increase.  It never ceased to amaze her how much just being in the same room with him could affect her.  She was glad it was her that wouldn't live through the year, and not him.  Before greeting her, he reached over her head and pulled the window shut.  "You maniac – you'll get a cold if you stay like that too long."

"I'm already cold-blooded," she assured him, mocking his former claim that Snape was a cold-blooded reptile.  She sniffled, but it had nothing to do with the cold.  She tried not to become emotional, or "sissy" as she called it, but it was hard.  Already her eyes were blurring from tears.  'Stupid, stupid,' she thought, 'stop behaving like that.'

"I can't stay long.  The house elves have already packed everything.  We're leaving within the hour.  I still can't believe I'm doing this, just going off with a group of strangers."

"You know Llian."

"It's just weird being with all these strangers – you should see some of them.  There was one lady dressed completely in black who looked like she was about to eat me.  It's weird we're going to be spending the next couple weeks together."

She nodded.  She could sympathize – she wasn't fond about being around strangers.  "Be careful."  Her throat constricted.  "Stay close to Llian."

"I don't have any intention of ever leaving him."  He reached over and wiped a tear away from her cheek.  He didn't say anything about it.  She hated for anyone to see her cry.

"I'm such a dork," she whispered, holding back a sob.  She started to say, 'It's not like we'll never see each other again,' but the truth was it was very possible they wouldn't.  She didn't know how much longer she had, but she could feel it approaching like a tickle in the air that an approaching thunderstorm creates.  Her dreams were haunted with a wide expanse of nothingness that threatened to swallow her whole.  It was coming so close she could taste it.  And even if her time was still months away, she didn't fool herself about the dangers of Neville's trip.  All it took was one mention, one clue, and Voldemort would track their party down and kill them all.  

They stood together holding hands beside the rattling window where a dark abyss waited just outside.  There were no words to be said.  Nothing could describe the empty feeling of dread that was growing in their stomachs, or the misery of long days without the other.  'How did I come to depend on anyone so much?' June wondered.  She used to pride herself on her independence, but now she felt herself irrevocably connected to so many people she didn't want to live without: Papa, Llian, Neville, Florean, Harry. . .

Neither said what they were thinking.  This was goodbye.

"I'll be back," he promised suddenly.  "Nothing will ever stop me from coming back."  He reluctantly let go of her hand.  "I have to go.  I'm not going to kiss you until I come back.  That way I have to keep my promise, because I could never leave you without kissing you goodbye."  He grinned, blushing furiously.  June couldn't help smiling back at his embarrassment.  He was probably wondering if he sounded like a complete dork – he had never had a girlfriend before.

June nodded.  "I'll see you later," she said, turning towards the stairs as if nothing was unusual.  She didn't look back.

"See you," he answered, his voice fading as he crossed the room behind her.  She climbed the stairs to the girls' dormitory slowly, each foot heavy as if mucking through mud.

Once inside the fifth year's bedroom she walked past Hermione's immaculately clean bed, her books neatly ordered along the shelves above her nightstand, and the two sleeping girls before reaching her own bed.  Lavender was mumbling in her sleep, her blankets and pillows tossed everywhere, her sheets tangled around her in disarray.  Parvati lay on her back as still as a the dead.  June pulled the drapes around her bed to shut out the rest of the room.  She curled up into a ball in the tomblike darkness and wept silently.

*          *          *          *          *          *          *          *          *          *          *          *

Neville awoke to find a pile of snow by his head.  After walking through the Forbidden Forest all night, guided by Hagrid and a wizard Neville had never seen before who wore Muggle jeans, their mismatched group had stopped to sleep in an abandoned old house that strongly resembled the Shrieking Shack.  It smelled infuriatingly like mildew.  Llian had shared the floor of a small bedroom with Neville.  It was so small it was almost a closet.  One of the smudged, dirty window panes were broken, allowing the early morning snow to drift in.  Some of it had melted and puddled under the side of the jacket he was using as a pillow.  They had been too tired last night, or more accurately, this morning since it was early afternoon now, to fix it.  They were only to use magic if it was absolutely necessary.  Right now they were trying to get as far away from Hogwarts as possible without being tracked magically.

The group had climbed the low mountain on the other side of the lake, and scaled down the other side.  The trial had been relatively smooth and flat.  With all of the conditioning Neville had had, it was a piece of cake.  Some of the adults had needed to stop and rest more than he did, but overall it was a fairly fit group.  He knew they couldn't possibly walk all the way there, but no one would tell him what they planned to do to cross several continents.  In fact, they had been in too much of a rush last night to tell him anything.  It made him uneasy to be with a small crowd of strangers, even more so when he didn't have a clue what was going on.  Except for Llian and Remus Lupin, who had been the DADA teacher his third year, he didn't even know the names of any of his companions.

He climbed out of his sleeping bag and looked around.  The room was even dingier than he remembered.  He could hear mice scampering through the rotting walls.  He shuddered involuntarily.  There were cobwebs and dirt everywhere.  This was far from a luxury vacation, but it was better, he reasoned, than sleeping outside.  

Llian had already left the room, but both of their packs lay against the far wall.  They had to carry everything with them: food, clothes, maps, potions, etc.  Luckily, their packs were charmed to hold more than seemed possible and much of their luggage was collapsible (cauldrons, tents, etc.).

He followed the narrow hallway outside the door to the rickety stairs.  He was surprised with who he found standing at the bottom.  "Professor Moody!"

"Don't know much about the 'Professor' bit, boy, seeing as I didn't get around to much teaching."  Both his mismatched eyes were fixed piercingly on Neville.  It reminded him of a Muggle book June had been reading a while back about a man with x-ray eyes.  "You'll be Neville Longbottom then."

He nodded.  "Yes sir."

"Of course you are.  Who else could you be with that face – it's Alice's face.  And you look to be as strong a man as Frank was.  He was a damn good Auror and an honest man.  I used to work alongside him before you were born."

"I know.  You told me."  He hastily corrected himself.  "Well, the man I thought was you told me."

Moody nodded slowly.  "You've grown into a fine young man."  Neville blushed.  He was surprised at how easily he could talk to Moody, despite the man's intimidating appearance.  "We have a history, boy, you and I.  I was the one who found you and your parents fifteen years ago.  I took an oath that day I wouldn't rest until I'd exacted revenge on the horror done."

The blood drained from Neville's face.  He felt faint.  "For that, I'm thankful sir," he whispered.  He didn't remember being found afterwards, but he had no reason to doubt Moody's claim.

"You'd better go on in," he said gruffly, still examining Neville with both eyes.  "You'll find the living room second door on the right."  He pointed over Neville's shoulder down the hallway.  "Go ahead and meet everyone, get a bite to eat.  As soon as we get word the way's clear we're heading out."  

Neville had questions to ask about the trip, but Moody turned and headed for the front door.  He doubted the man would answer them even if he had the chance to ask.  Everyone seemed to want to keep Llian and Neville deliberately in the dark.  For a second it made him furious – they had just as much right to know what was going on as any one else.  They weren't children.  Heck, Llian was the entire reason the trip was being made.  How could it possibly harm anything to tell them the traveling plans?  But he knew it would be useless to insist.  They would be told in time.  For now all he could do was watch and listen.

The living room was as cluttered as the rest of the house.  Over-turned and broken chairs lined the walls.  Decaying books lay half open on the floor.  Most of the furniture was missing legs or was otherwise broken.  A dark bookshelf by the door had several shelves tilted awkwardly and looked to collapse if anyone so much as breathed on it.  Most of the people from the fourteen person party from last night were spread out around the room: some sat at a small table eating breakfast, others sat on chairs alone or in small groups, others sat on the moldy couch talking quietly.  A few people glanced at him when he entered, but most seemed uninterested.  One man sitting in the corner of the room, however, watched him intently, as did the dangerous looking woman by the window who seemed to be assessing him.

Llian was sitting on the rug in front of the fireplace, warming his bare feet of the hearth.  Next to him sat a young witch who couldn't have been over twenty-five.  She wore a simple navy robe, a healer's robe, with nothing to adorn it except for a small heart-shaped pendant which dangled at the end of a thin silver chain.  She tossed her head, pushing her curly blond hair out of her face.  It fell down her back freely.  She was laughing with Llian about something.  It didn't surprise Neville that Llian attracted beautiful women to him.  Some bastards have all the luck.

He crept up behind them and listened.  

"I can't believe I'm here with Professor Snape's _son_!" she said.  "I used to be scared shitless of him when I he was my teacher.  Oh, how he hated the Hufflepuffs.  Maybe it's divine vengeance that his own son is one."

Llian smiled.  "No, it's a divine blessing.  Ha!  You should have seen his face when we beat Slytherin at Quidditch.  It was priceless."

The witch closed her eyes and leaned back her head.  "Hmm. . .I'm trying to imagine it. . .yes, that does make quite an interesting picture."

"He's not that bad really," Llian started.

"If he's unconscious. . .and in a different country," Neville muttered.

Both Llian and the witch jumped.  "Neville!  Why'd you sneak up on us like that?"  Neville shrugged.  "This is Neville Longbottom," he said to the witch.  "Nev, this is Viola Kent.  She's studying to be a Potions Mistress."

Neville clutched his chest in mock horror.  "Ye Gods!  You want to be another Snape?"

She laughed, her icy blue eyes twinkling.  "Actually, Snape was probably worse to my generation than to yours.  When I was a student he was in his early twenties – he was dangerously violent and emotional.  He didn't show up for class a lot and would randomly leave school for days at a time to walk through the Forbidden Forest.  From what I've seen of him now, he's mellowed quite a bit."

"It helps him having his children," Neville admitted.  "He loves them."

"I thought you said he was an evil bastard incapable of love," Llian accused.

"He is," he answered.  "So what drew you to potions, Miss Kent?  A subconscious urge to poison Snape?"

"He's not fond of Papa," Llian added in a stage-whisper.

"I can tell.  But it's not, Miss, it's Mrs.  And call me Viola, please, I'm not _that old yet.  I'm interested in medical diagnostic potions.  Contrary to popular belief, I don't harbor some obsessive maniacal grudge against the man who once made my life miserable."_

"He makes everyone miserable," Neville said.  He stopped the Snape bashing when he caught the dark look Llian threw him.  "I guess that explains your robes then."

She nodded.  "Help yourself to some food now that you're up.  You can take some fruit – we have berries and nuts over there, or you can wait a bit longer for some hot food.  There's some bread out on the table too, and Cyrix is cooking stew."  She giggled.  "I made fun of him for his name when I first met him five years ago, but he says mine is weirder.  I can't say that I agree."

"Viola is a beautiful name," Neville said.  "June – my girlfriend – would love it."

"That's what Llian said.  It means violet in Latin, I think.  A blue violet is supposed to symbolize watchfulness and faithfulness."

"Hmpphh!  Faithfulness indeed," a deep voice said behind them.

Neville turned to find the same tall, lean man who had led the group last night.  His worn hiking boots and bottom of his jeans were still splattered with mud.  There were drops of snow in his dark, curly hair and beard.  He adjusted his glasses and continued to glare at Viola.

"Ah, so you made it back alive," Viola said, waving a hand at him dismissively.

"Not that you would care much if I didn't," he answered.  His tan face formed a frown, but Neville could see a smile in his dark eyes.

"Boys, this is Jonathan Kent, my husband.  He's going to be our guide.  So you can blame him if we get lost."

"I never get lost," he said.  His statement was devoid of anger or pride.

"Don't mind him, he's having a hissy fit because I told him not to get himself into trouble because I wasn't about to risk my life saving him.  But he loves me anyway."  She pulled him into a fierce hug.

He winced and pulled away holding his ribs.  "What are you trying to do, kill me?  Isn't it enough that I've already hiked seven miles making sure we're not being followed?  Maybe you actually _want_ me out of the way so you can steal my babies."

Viola rolled her eyes.  "He's referring to his collection," she explained.  "Jon has a rock collection that he's more proud of than his poor wife.  He has rocks from all over the world.  I think he likes them because they remind him of his own thick skull."  Jonathan muttered something under his breath.  "Jon, this is Llian Snape, the Haran, and Neville Longbottom."

He shook their hands.  His hand was rough and calloused.  "I pleased to meet you both.  I'm sorry we didn't have time for introductions last night.  I really admire you," he said to Llian, his long face honest.  "It must take a lot of strength to do this.  But then you're a Gryffindor, so it's right up your alley, eh?"

"Actually, I'm a Hufflepuff.  Neville here is the Gryffindor."  He put a Snape-like scowl on his face and lowered his voice to mimic his father's.  "Bloody Gryffindor!"

"Wow, that was really good," Jonathan complimented him.  "And scary.  It's funny – when I first saw you two I thought it would be the other way around."

"Nope, I'm Hufflepuff through and through.  A twisted Hufflepuff, perhaps, but a Hufflepuff nonetheless."

"A Snape who's a Haran and a Longbottom who's a legendary healer – what strange company," Jonathan mused.

Neville blushed.  "I'm not legendary at all.  I wouldn't call myself a healer – I've only healed one person.  I'm not even qualified."

"Nonsense.  Healing is more than just a vocation, it's a calling.  If Dumbledore himself said your healing powers will become legend, then they will be."

Neville was flabbergasted.  "He – he said that?" he squeaked.

"Sure did.  Maybe you can give Viola a lesson or two."

Viola laughed good-naturedly.  "He probably could."

"I do want to be a Healer, but my main interest is herbology," Neville clarified.

Jonathan's eyebrows shot up.  "Really?  Herbology's my specialization."

"He just uses that as an excuse to run through the woods all day," Viola said, laying a hand on her husband's arm.

"Better than staying cramped up inside all day with a cauldron spewing foul odors in your face," he replied.

She punched him on the shoulder.  "Go help Cyrix cook the stew.  I'm going to introduce these boys to the rest of the group."  Jonathan mumbled something about cooking and explosions, but obeyed his wife and disappeared through a door that Neville assumed led to the kitchen.  

Viola led them around the room, introducing the Aurors from the Ministry.  They were all supporters of Arthur Weasley.  Most of them nodded when introduced, others just waved a disinterested hand.  None of them proved to be very talkative, but Neville wasn't sure if it was dispositional or if they were still tired from the night before or worried about the day ahead.  When Viola finally got to the man in the corner who had previously been watching Neville, she left them with him after introducing him as simply Graff.

"Hello," Llian said, stretching out his hand.

Graff took his hand, his dark eyes still staring at them both intently.  He didn't look like he meant them any harm but it was a bit unnatural how he didn't blink.  His bronze face made him appear to blend in with the shadows in the corner he occupied.  "Ah, it is good to meet the Hogwarts children."  He had a thick Spanish accent.

"Where did _you_ go to school?" Llian asked politely.

"There was a small wizarding school in my country, but I only went there for four years.  The Dominican Republic is a beautiful place, but its wizarding education leaves much to be desired.  I moved to Peru and then later to Chile, where the curriculum was more standardized.  Now I am here, in Britain, many years and countries later.  You are lucky to have this Hogwarts."

"Have you ever been to the States?" Llian asked.

Graff shook his head.  "This is where you are from?"

"No, I just picked up the accent from going to school there the past couple years.  I was going to ask you if you had heard of any of the schools I attended, like the Kokopeli Academy or the Loup-garou School of Voodoo, but I guess you wouldn't."

"No, the only American school I have heard of is this Salem's Witches Institute.  I think they only accept the higher grades, though."

"I guess most people here went to Hogwarts," Llian said, looking around the room.

"Have you met everyone?" Graff asked.

 Llian shrugged.  "We've met most the people.  No one seems very talkative."

He nodded, his eyes not moving from Llian's for an instant.  "Don't mind them. They're preoccupied."  He ran his thin fingers over his small moustache.

Llian narrowed his eyes suspiciously.  Neville knew that Llian hadn't been told anything either.  He suspected their quick departure was triggered by an increase in Dark activity.  Of course, they were mere children, not to be burdened with adult business.  'This war very much is our business though,' Neville thought darkly.  'We have to live through it the same as everybody else.'

"Who's the lady by the window?" Neville asked suddenly.  She was one who had been watching him earlier, the one who looked dangerous.  Right now she was gazing out the front window into the melting snow; her face hard but sad, as if she was missing part of her soul and longing to have it back.

"Ah, you likely won't be meeting her face to face.  She does not encourage company.  Her name is Cecily Aleta Fain.  She won't let us call her anything but Aleta.  The Dark side knows her only as 'The Assassin.'  She's a mercenary, usually works for Arthur Weasley.  Using Ministry funds to pay her is just one of things that has gotten the poor man in trouble."

"An assassin?  What is she doing here?" Neville wondered.

Graff shrugged, obviously not wanting to give away any more information than necessary.  "Not many people know of her.  I'm one of only a few who can recognize her face.  I tell you this because I believe I can trust you not to let the information reach beyond your little ears – and I wish to warn you not to mix with her."

"Why is she so sad?" Neville asked.

Graff stared at him intently.  "Ah, my young friend, I have heard her called many things but sad is not one of them.  I know only fragments of her story – she does not talk about herself."

Llian looked uneasy.  "She doesn't seem very trustworthy."  Being a Hufflepuff, he would be most worried about honor and trust.

Graff shrugged.  "You mistake her intent.  She is deadly, yes, often cruel.  But she is on our side.  She would do anything to eliminate the threat of Voldemort.  It her life, this fight against the Dark."  He nodded emphatically, rubbing his moustache again.

"Why?" Neville asked.  "Did something happen to her?"  She was relatively young, probably a few years below forty, so she would have been just reaching adulthood during Voldemort's first rising.

"This I cannot tell you," Graff said, turning away.  He didn't seem to want to pursue the subject.  

Neville stared at her a long time before turning away.  She was dressed all in black, just like last night.  Her robes were different than most witches; they were more form-fitting, with a wide black sash around her waist and slits up both sides.  He glimpsed a wrist sheath underneath her wide, wing-like sleeves when she reached up to pull a stray dark hair back into line.  Sensing his attention, she turned to stare back at him, her brown eyes deadly.  He repressed a shudder as he turned away.

Llian and Graff were already talking to a slender man with shoulder-length pale blond hair and violet eyes.  He was barely more than a boy, probably no more than eighteen or nineteen.  "Now he pays attention," Llian muttered, shoving Neville closer to the young man.  "This is Neville Longbottom, my scatter-brained friend; Nev, this is Edan."

"Hello Adan," Neville said, extending his hand.  The young man just looked at him curiously, without offering his own.

"No, it's not Adan – it's spelled E-D-A-N, but pronounced Ay-den.  It's Celtic, right?"  He turned to Edan for confirmation.  Edan nodded.  He was rather short, almost Harry's height, which was a head shorter than Neville.  

"Oh.  Are you an Auror?"  Edan shook his head.  "A Healer?"  Still wrong.  "What do you do?" Neville asked, running out of guesses.  He hoped he wasn't another assassin, though he didn't look to be one.  Edan had an air of the supernatural, of mystery to him that wasn't unlike June's presence.

"Portals," he said shortly.  He was a man of few words.

"So that's how we're traveling!" Llian exclaimed.  Graff and Edan didn't answer but Neville could tell from their faces that Llian had guessed correctly.  "Portkeys leave magical residue behind, and we don't want to be traced.  And we don't know exactly where we're going, do we?  The Volari are nomadic, and have spells guarding against being tracked.  If we can travel by portals we can go to more than one location quickly."  Llian rubbed his chin thoughtfully, unconsciously mimicking Graff's moustache stroking.  "But why are we walking so far if you could have opened a portal back at Hogwarts."

"Nodes," Edan answered. 

Llian looked confused and neither Edan nor Graff offered further explanation, so Neville tried to explain what he had learned of portals and nodes from June and Harry.  "A node is place where there's naturally a lot of power.  Even Muggles can tell that something's different at a node: their compasses become inconsistent and their compurars-"

"Compurar?" Llian asked.  "I think you mean computers."

"That's what I said. Their comptorars malfunction.  June said that when Muggles live at nodes there'll be a hundred-fold reporting of UFOs or supernatural occurrences, and more than the usual proportion will develop what they call E.S.T. . .or was it E.S.P.?"  Llian nodded.  "Anyway, if you're able to control portals you can open them from anywhere, but to send such a large group requires a lot of power.  Right?"  He hoped he had gotten it correctly.  But Edan shrugged, not committing to an answer one way or the other.  He didn't seem inclined to talk.

Graff looked extremely displeased that they had figured out the travel plans.  It really pissed Neville off that they still wanted to keep Llian and him in the dark.  He wanted to say something, but he knew it wasn't necessarily Graff's fault.  For all he knew, Dumbledore could have been the one that gave the order.

A plump, middle-aged witch with messy brown hair entered the room and her face lit up with a smile when she saw Neville and Llian.  She walked straight up to Llian and introduced herself, her voice soft but firm.  "You're Llian Snape, correct?"  He nodded.  "I'm Carol Berg."

"Carol Berg?" Neville exclaimed.  "_The Carol Berg?  The Carol Berg who wrote the books on Volari and Veela, and who wrote __The Ran Bearers?  It's really an honor to meet you, Mrs. Berg."_

She smiled thankfully, her face flushed with pleasure at being recognized.  "Please, call me Carol.  Are you interested in Veela?  Or Volari, since you're friends with Llian, right?  Are you thinking about becoming an anthropologist?"

Neville shook his head.  "No, but my girlfriend's reading all your books and she says you're a fabulous writer.  She's a Volari."

"Another Volari?  Half-blooded?"

"No, she's Volari through and through."

"Really?  In Britain?  It's unusual for them to stay with humans."

"Yup, she goes to Hogwarts with us."

The author grinned.  "Well, that certainly is a change from the attitude that the Ministry usually takes against Volari.  The Veela are more accepted, but usually students have to be half- or quarter blood to be allowed to attend school, and even then it's shunned."

Neville nodded.  He knew all about June and Llian's early struggles with the Australian Ministry.  "Most places are," Llian said.  "My sister and I have traveled all over the world but none of the major schools would admit us for long.  We would have to audit the classes, or only be given temporary permission to attend their schools.  Some of them only let us stay for one semester, if at all."

She made a noise of disapproval.  "You and your sister and half-blooded, correct?"

Llian hesitated.  He finally decided on a half-truth.  "We're both adopted; she's full-blooded, but I'm only half."

"Oh, his sister and my girlfriend are the same person," Neville clarified.

"Wow!  I'm impressed.  And you're still best friends?  Ha, but truly, it's fabulous you and your sister have the opportunity to get such a great education.  Then again, Hogwarts has always been a lenient school."  Neville nodded.  After a half-giant, giant spiders, basilisk, vampires, werewolves, and giant squid that had all at some point resided at Hogwarts, a Volari was nothing.  "But I wanted to ask you, Llian, if you happen to be related to a Juniper A. Snape."

Llian was suddenly suspicious.  "That's my sister."

Her eyes widened.  "Really?  How exciting!  I wish I had known while I was at Hogwarts, I would have dearly loved to meet her.  Perhaps you can introduce me when we get back?"

"How do you know her?" Neville asked.  "Or know of her?"

"She sent in a draft of a book of hers to my publisher.  I got to read it – it was simply splendid work."

"Which book?" Neville asked.  June hadn't told him anything about this.

"Oh, it explores what I left out of my book – the more supernatural aspects of the Volari.  Their Seers, the Haran visions, ancient Volari prophecies, the Dreamtime myth."

"It's not a myth," Llian said.  "June's been there."

Carol nodded.  "It was so exciting to learn more about the Volari.  They don't exactly sit down and explain everything.  The ones I've found before in New Zealand just expect you to already understand what they're doing."

"Is that why you're going with us?  Did you come to learn more about the Volari?" Neville asked politely, not sure what Carol's part was in all of this.

"I'm here so we can still negotiate if Llian dies," she said with a straight face.

They stared at her for a second.  Llian burst out into laughter, but Neville continued to look horrified that she could say such a thing.  "That's great!" Llian said.  "It must be really exciting, to be able to see the Volari again."

She grinned.  "For me, it'll be like going home.  I think I'm Volari at heart – or maybe I was one in my past life.  And the life before that I was a Veela."  She gave a short laugh.  "Seriously though, I'm your connection.  I know a lot of Volari, even if they don't exactly keep in touch like humans.  I was able to find, from friends, the general vicinity of where to look for them.  They change locations with the year, I'm sure you already know that.  Look at it this way: I'm the line to reel them in, and Llian's the net to catch them."  She had a funny way of saying things.

"I don't think they'd like being comparing to fish," Llian said.  Neville nodded.  The Volari were sky people; they hated the water.  June had told him so.  Unless she was using it as a rationalization for why she wouldn't go swimming with him back in September.  "Speaking of which, I'm starving!"

"There's stew ready in the kitchen," Carol said.  

"Great!  Come on, let's go get some," Llian exclaimed.

"Eat all you want," Carol said.  "After this, we'll be on our way."

*          *          *          *          *          *          *          *          *          *

[A/N: Credits:

-Viola Kent and Jonathan Kent are based on **LisaViola** and her husband.

-Cecily Alerta Fain is a creation from **Shahanna** for her own fanfic; sorry if I have to twist her about a bit.

-Graff's name is taken from the character Griff, one of the main characters of _Wings of a Falcon by Cynthia Voigt (excellent, excellent author – she mainly writes books for young adults, but like Harry Potter, all age levels can appreciate their depth – I strongly recommend her to everyone, her more famous books being _Dicey's Song_, __Homecoming, __A Solitary Blue, and __Izzy_, Willy-Nilly_)._

-Kokopeli is a flute-playing hunch-back from a Hopi Indian legend

-A loup-garou is a Cajun werewolf, and voodoo is the favorite form of magic in my birthplace, New Orleans J

-Carol Berg, as I've already said, is a fantasy author who has written the most excellent series ever created, the Rai-kirah trilogy (it's got everything you could want in fantasy: sword fights, portals, demons, sorcery, shape-shifting, a completely unpredictable and un-clichéd plot, a main character who can grow wings. . .): _Transformation, _Revelation_, and _Reformation_.  I do not have Carol Berg's permission to put her in my fanfic, but I hope she doesn't mind too much – I'll try not to kill her!_

-Sorry you had to listen to me ramble; I become excited where books are concerned.]


	48. Concealment

[A/N: Another chapter completely devoid of death, mutilation, blood, and misery!  Can you believe it?  Perhaps I'm loosing my touch...]

49. Concealment

Eliza woke Saturday morning with the disturbing feeling that ants were crawling all over her skin.  Her head and ears felt fuzzy, as if there was something buzzing close by, but was out of the capabilities of normal human hearing.  She staggered across the room and into the bathroom, where she accidentally stepped into the boiling hot shower fully clothed.  Even half an hour later, as she rubbed her wet hair furiously with a thin towel that had a picture of a grinning orange cat on it, her eyelids seemed to be glued together.

She sat in front of the common room fireplace, her damp towel lying forgotten in her lap, trying to warm the ice that encompassed her spirit.  Everything felt so wrong.  It was like the second right after you turned in a test where you suddenly wonder if you remembered to answer the questions on the _back_ of the page.  It was a mental itch that refused to be sated.

"What?  What?" she whispered to herself.  Her usually clam hazel-green eyes were tinged with the hint of worry and nervousness.

Her housemates mistook her anxiety for excitement for the upcoming Quidditch match, Hufflepuff versus Ravenclaw.  One girl, Molly Hutherie went so far as to sit next to her and comfortingly tell her, "There, there - cheer up, dearie."  She was a seventh year girl who felt it her maternal duty to look after the younger students.  "Llian may be gone, but Ahren is an excellent seeker – we can still win easily."  

She nodded dully, her mind taking a second to click into working order and remember what Molly was talking about.  The older girl squeezed her shoulder and disappeared as quickly as she had appeared a second earlier.  

Her thoughts traveled back to important matters, namely Llian.  Among the many considerations Llian had to mull over before leaving, Quidditch surprisingly hadn't been one of them.  What was a lousy Quidditch Cup in the face of the impending war against Lord Vol-

She took a deep breath.  "Voldemort," she whispered to herself, hugging her knees tightly to her chest.  She wasn't afraid of his name per se, but it still evoked a deep gut reaction that left her shaky of full of fearful memories.  This was the man who had killed countless Muggles and wizards alike.  This was the man who had destroyed her life in one single night.  This was the man who had reduced everyone she cared for to scorched bones.  She could still taste the sickening smell of burnt flesh, of blood coating the streets, of human waste.  She would not call him Lord Voldemort.  He was no Lord.  He was a demon.  He was hell incarnate.

She thought of Llian all by himself, traveling wearily through the countryside.  Her heart beat faster.  He was so strong, so noble.  He cast aside Quidditch and school and everything else, perhaps his own life, for something he believed in.  Unlike the majority of boys at Hogwarts, he understood what was at stake in this war.  She felt she could love him for this.

Everything he did, he was dedicated.  He took up no task light-heartedly.  His seemingly relaxed, easy-going manner was a mask for the relentlessly intense and serious man underneath.  She smiled and buried her head in her arms.  'Did I just call him a _man?'  She chuckled.  But he was.  She was sure he was the most mature boy in the whole school, even though he was only a fifth year.  He knew how to prioritize, and that attracted the part of her that was naturally drawn to order.  He was clever as a Ravenclaw, courageous as a Gryffindor, and cunning as a Slytherin._

"Do you miss him already?" someone said in her ear, making her jump.  Was she _that transparent?  It was Beatrice, another fourth-year, who was currently giggling and sitting on the rug beside her.  She wrapped her spaghetti-thin arms around Eliza's neck._

"Miss who?" Eliza asked, putting on a mask of calm that she did not feel.  She was aloof, careful to keep her movements steady and unhurried.  She leaned forward a bit so that Beatrice dropped her arm from where it hung on the back of Eliza's neck.

"Lli-an!" Beatrice sang happily.  Eliza considered slapping her.  "Don't worry, he'll be back soon.  I bet you wish you could visit him, but Madame Pomphrey would never let you.  You might get sick.  But then you might enjoy that, eh?  Spending a month or two in isolation with Llian?  Isn't she keeping him isolated?"

Eliza nodded.  "Quarantined."  The general population of Hogwarts thought that Llian had developed a case of the Magical Iggles, a highly contagious disease similar to the Muggle common cold, only involving a lot of blue spots that could travel to others by touch.  It spread among peoples of magic – the only was to stop it was to keep away from affected individuals.  It took weeks to recede completely.  It was the perfect reason for Llian to mysteriously disappear for up to a month without hope of human contact beyond Madame Pomphrey, who knew special charms to allow her to be in the same room as the afflicted without catching anything.  Neville, should anyone ask, had gone home on 'family business.'  As his family consisted of hundreds of cousins, aunts, uncles, and people he didn't even know the names of, there was little hope of any outside party checking up on his story.

"Maybe you can sneak in," Beatrice continued, her eyes shining with excitement.  "And then you can tell him exactly how you feel about him."

Eliza gave her a look modeled after Professor Snape.  "I should tell him he's nothing but a show-off, greasy-haired, bastard of a git?"

Beatrice frowned.  "No!  You should tell him that you luh-uh-uh-ove him!"  She pretended to swoon, her small hands making flourishing gestures and she shook her frizzy dark blond hair back and forth.

'That's it,' Eliza decided, 'you're going to have to die.'  She resisted the urge to throttle the girl.  It was probably the fault of genetics that Beatrice was so high-strung, but it didn't make living with her any easier.  'At least wait until night to kill her, when no one can witness it.'  Beatrice slept in the bed next to hers, but she went to bed at 8 p.m. and complained loudly if anyone so much as coughed.  "In case you haven't noticed, he has a girlfriend; so I wouldn't say anything even _if I liked him, which I don't, beyond being friends."_

Beatrice rolled her eyes.  "Suuuure...  But you still like him," she pressed.  She apparently was starting to receive the mental death threats Eliza had been sending her for she suddenly looked up and waved across the room at a friend.  "I hafta go.  See ya."

Eliza watched her leave out the corner of her eye.  Some people just didn't realize that they were wasting oxygen being alive.  She sighed and closed her eyes.  She had already been feeling uneasy and violent – her housemates were only increasing her distemper.  The outer calm she usually eluded was becoming thread-bare and exposing her frayed nerves.

She didn't feel comfortable eating this morning.  Instead she went back to her room to hang up her towel and grab her bookbag.  After ducking into an empty classroom on the eighth floor, she took the book out of a hidden compartment in the wall and began to read.

*          *          *          *          *          *          *          *          *          *          *

"Crap!"  Neville wiggled his butt on the ground in attempt to find a better position from which to pull himself back up.  Now he knew what it felt like to be a bug that falls over on its back and kicks its feet furiously unable to right itself.  The packs they carried on their backs were so heavy that it was hard to stand again after tripping, as he was excessively prone to do.

He was surprised to see a pale hand extend towards him.  It was Aleta.  He hauled himself up with her help (she had a wiry strength despite her slender appearance).  She turned away again before he could mumble thanks.  He watched he walk for a few seconds.  She had a light step, with fluid, easy movements.  It made him shiver to think of her using the same finely wrought grace in deadly combat.  After tightening his pack, he jogged to catch her.

She usually kept to herself during their travels, but she didn't do anything to stop Neville from walking besides her.  He took it as a good sign.  They were near the end of the group, which was spread out among a trail through the most godforsaken barren land Neville had ever seen.

Centuries ago, this had been the main battle-ground for a war fought by wizard-like.  Everyone had been involved, from Giants to Pookas, a fairy ancestor of the modern-day house elf.  Now the entire area was reduced to rubble.  A few stringy, thorny weeds were able to grow among the boulder size piles of rocks surrounding the trail, but mostly it was clumps of hard dust and grit that Neville could feel squishing in both his boots.  Except for the bugs, life of any sort was conspicuously absent.  The landscape was silent at some points and ear-splitting at others where the wind cut through the rocks, which seemed to moan in response.  They tread across the buried bones of thousands.

He only knew about the war because of Llian, who was a history fanatic.  The Ministry didn't want any students learning about it.  Any Ministry issued or approved history textbooks had a conspicuous absence of events during the one-hundred and sixty years the war took place.  The death toll had reduced the magical world by over half.  This was the place where the two sides had met for decades, neither able to push the other back any farther.  It was also the site of the final battle, which had left both sides in ruins.  Three species of fairies had become extinct that day.  The Dementors had been set loose, too, the same creatures that had been drawn out of the caves of dreamtime expressly for the war.  No one even knew what the war had been about, even Llian.  Perhaps Florean knew, because he knew everything, but if he did he wasn't sharing it.  All the documents from that time period had since been destroyed.  It had happened centuries and centuries ago and no one wanted to remember it.

It gave Neville the creeps to walk here.  He liked being surrounded by plants, familiar things he could recognize and enjoy.  Aleta seemed unfazed, but then he doubted anything would manage to jar her.  Her eyes darted constantly about, alert for anything suspicious.  Despite the large amount of dust, her tight, black attire remained spotless, without a wrinkle or stain anywhere.  Her jaw was clenched unconsciously. 

Neville cleared his throat.  "You, uh, work for the Ministry?"

She was silent.  He was beginning to think she hadn't heard him when she finally answered, "I'm more freelance."  She gave him a look intended to make him shudder.

Instead, he laughed.  For just an instant, her mask slipped to show a glimpse of surprise on her face.  He had seen her previous look of disapproval so many times from Professor Snape that it ceased to intimidate him: it was the same defensive "don't-mess-with-me" look that June tried to imitate.  "Why do you laugh?" Aleta asked.  She didn't look annoyed, only curious.  The fine lines at the corner of her eyes wrinkled in puzzlement.

"Because I think I like you," he said honestly.

Finally she turned at looked at him.  Her face was unreadable.  "Why do you say that?"

He shrugged.  "I don't know.  A part of you reminds me of my girlfriend.  Only more bitter."  He glanced at her expressionless face.  "Way more bitter."

She didn't answer right away.  "Haven't you already been warned who to stay away from?  You don't want to get involved with the likes of me.  Aren't you afraid I'll hurt you?"  Her words were sarcastic, but she seemed to really want to hear his answer.

"What, that you'll slit my throat in the dead of the night?  I have no doubt you could.  But then, I'm the probably the weakest member of the group, so it's not exactly a crowning achievement."

"You speak very openly."  The disdain in her voice was evident.

"Only with certain people."  She kept on walking.  "Look, I'm sorry if I'm bugging you.  Do you walk me to leave?"  She grunted in answer.  He was about to step back and find someone else to walk with, but he figured she'd likely be the kind of person to just say if he was annoying her.

He didn't have much to say, though, so they walked in companionable silence for over ten minutes before he talked again.  "Could you teach me..."

"What?"

"How to use that dagger you have hidden in your wrist sheath."  He had seen her using it to gut a fish.  Her movements had been quick and decisive.

She reflexively slid one of her hands into her large sleeve to touch it.  "Why are you so anxious to play with grown-ups' toys, little boy?"

"You just said it.  Look at me: I'm only a teenager, still in school.  I've got a bit of muscle, but not enough to make a difference in a fight.  My magic's so weak I'm practically a Squib.  I need some way to protect myself."

"Why me?"

"Because everyone else just teaches me a few defensive maneuvers and sends me on my way.  I've asked several people already, but no one takes me seriously.  They don't even make sure I have it down; they baby me if I mess up.  I don't think you would."

"Isn't defensive enough?"

He took a deep breath.  "Let's put it this way: if it's between a friend and a Death Eater, it damn well better be the Death Eater that kicks the bucket."

"What do you want?"

He thought about it.  "I want to train with you."

"I get up at 6 a.m. every morning to train."

"I get up at 6 a.m. every morning to run six miles."

She paused for half a second at his unexpected reply.  "It's not the same."

"Can't you give me chance?  It could save my life one day."

Her face darkened.  She nodded.  "I don't have any patience," she warned.

"That's okay.  I won't get in your way."  He paused.  "Unless you get in mine."  She raised an eyebrow and he laughed.  "Sorry, I wanted to see how you'd respond.  I'm so used to goading Snape – Professor Snape – and you're a lot like him.  Except for the greasy part.  And the evil part.  He would probably hex me if I told him that."

"As will I."  Without a second's hesitation, she flung an ear-wiggling charm at him.  She watched with a blank face as he attempted to put the countercharm on himself and failed miserably.  Instead he shot a Jiggly-Legs curse at her, but she brushed it away with her hand as if it were a gnat.

"You suck," he said, brushing past her.

"I should say the same to you.  You can't even protect yourself against a curse every first year knows."  She examined her fingernails.  "You got off easy.  The last person who insulted me, I killed."

He snorted in laughter, even knowing that she was probably serious.  "Now you definitely sound like my girlfriend.  Do you have to be so dramatic?  I know you're an assassin and all-"

Her head shot up.  Her eyes were riddled with cold fury.  "He told you.  Graff told you."  Her words came out as a growl.  He nodded.  She cursed fluently, kicking a rock the size of a football.  "I'll kill him."  She started striding furiously down the trail, but slowed enough for Neville to catch her.  He hoped Graff wasn't anywhere close.  Luckily, the only people whom he could see ahead were Viola and Jonathan, who were bickering steadily and paying no attention to anyone else.

"Llian and I won't tell anyone.  Graff said to keep your identity a secret."

"And he's doing a grand job of it too, isn't he?  Fucking bastard."  She spat on the ground in disgust.

"That was unnecessary."  He responded automatically as would to June, before he could stop himself.

She whirled around to face him.  "Who the hell are you to tell me anything?"

He tried not to revert to his former behavior of cowering when being confronted.  "A friend," he answered nervously.

"I don't have friends."

"I used to not have any either.  Why don't you have any?"

"They'd only get in the way."

He nodded.  He could understand it from her point of view.  "True."

She glared daggers at him.  "You don't have a clue what I'm talking about, little boy."

"First off, I'm not exactly little, am I?"  He shook the skin of his arm, which was less than half the size it was last year, but still 'meaty.'  "Second, you're wrong.  A lot of students know exactly what's going on."  She rolled her eyes in disbelief, but he jumped in front of her, blocking her path, and made her listen.

"You think we're little babies who don't understand anything?  You think we don't understand what's going on with _your_ war?  We understand when we receive letters from the Ministry every other weekend telling us of more and more deaths.  We understand what's happening when students disappear during the holidays and never come back.  We understand when people make attempts on our lives at school where we're supposed to be safe."

He had her full attention now.

"You think I'm a silly little boy, a fat nobody, who doesn't understand what's happening?  I understood when I was on the Knight Bus when the Death Eaters attacked and wrecked it.  My friend Eliza understood she was the only one left alive after her entire village was burned to the ground.  Llian understood when a dozen Death Eaters attacked him and two other students last summer: they tried to kill him, rape his sister, and destroy Harry Potter.  What happened to these little innocent children you're picturing?  What happened to them?  They don't exist!

"We don't understand?  Well, I _damn_ well understand every time I visit my parents in St. Mungos and they can't even recognize their own son!"

He turned abruptly and disappeared down the path, putting as many curves between himself and Aleta as he could.  He was crying openly now, but he didn't care.  He was furious with everyone, from Dumbledore to Moody to Graff.  How dare they tell him he didn't understand when everywhere he looked there were more deaths, more sadness, more ruined lives and hollow spirits?  Did they think he thought it was all a joke?  How dare they say he didn't understand what was at stake?  He had always seen the dead, empty look in his parents' eyes, and knew it meant the Death Eaters had taken something away from them even more precious than their lives.

How dare they say he didn't understand _their war when he had to fight it, too?_

When she finally pulled up next to him fifteen minutes later, Aleta was wise enough not to mention his outburst.  "Your parents are Alice and Frank Longbottom?" she asked quietly.  He nodded.  "I knew them.  I'd say I'm sorry, but such sentiments are probably meaningless to you."

"They are.  But I appreciate them anyway."

"I'll teach you."  He didn't answer.  "I'll teach you if you swear that no Death Eater you find lives once I'm through training you."

He was about to answer quickly but thought of June.  "What if they're a spy?"

"I don't believe in spies.  You've either sold your soul to Voldemort or you haven't."

"What about morons like Fudge who oppose Voldemort but cause countless deaths from his stupidity?  Is he better than a spy who's risking his life to bring valuable information that saves hundreds of lives?"

Her face tightened into what, for a second, looked like pure agony.  "I can't talk to you."  She slipped behind a boulder and was gone.

What had he done to her?  It was obvious that she understood the logic of what Neville was saying, but was simply unable to accept it.  Why did the very idea that a Death Eater should be allowed to live seem so repulsive to her?  How had her emotionless façade fallen so completely and violently from one small conversation?  He didn't have any answers, and the more he thought it, the more mystified he became. 

"Hey Nev!  Wait up!"  He turned to find Llian waving his hand frantically.  Llian bounded down the trail, his long legs looking distinctly bug-like in his running shorts.  "Sorry, I got sick of talking to them."  Neville understood.  'Them' meant everybody but Neville, who was as familiar to Llian as his favorite pair of running shoes [A/N: for those of you who are non-runners, this is a term of endearment].  

"Since when have you gotten sick of talking to people?"

"I'm sick of their hypocrisy.  I'm sick of their lies.  We're supposed to trust these people with our lives and they won't even tell us where we're going?  What if we get lost or separated?  What are supposed to do, just sit there and wait for someone to come along and find us?"

"And hope it isn't a Death Eater that finds us first?  I know.  At least we know where we are right now."

"Fat lot of good it does us.  This is fantastic, though, isn't it?  We're walking through history.  It's so exciting."

"What's exciting about it?  It's a bunch of rock and packed dirt."

"When June and I first planned on coming to Britain, this place was on my 'To Visit' list."

"You're one strange, sick Australian."

"Don't mess with me, dude, or I'll attack you with a splade."

"Dude?"  Neville rolled his eyes.  "Don't you mean a spade?"

"No, one of those utensil thingies that're like a fork and spoon and everything together."

"Don't you mean a spork?"  He had heard the word before from June.

"No, a splade."

"Is it like a spork?"

"It's a spork that's coolified times three.  It's kinda squarish, and the edges are like a knife's.  It's got a spoon, fork, and knife – three in one."

"It must be a muggle invention."

"Actually a witch invented it _for the poor muggles."_

"Whatever.  Should I make sure you don't get your hands on any incase you randomly attack members of the group in the middle of the night?"

"Mhh, I'd be more worried about their attacking us.  Seriously, Nev, this is a dodgy bunch.  I wouldn't trust the lot of them farther than I could throw them.  All this secrecy is making me nervous."

"You mean not knowing what our plans are?"

"It's more than that.  Just look around us.  Graff pretends to be open and caring, but he's always watching us to make sure we don't know too much.  There's something more to him that he's not telling us.  Cyrix won't even tell us his real name."

"I thought that was his name."

"Nope, not according to Viola.  She let it slip that it's just a kind of code name, or nickname, I don't if it matters which.  And some of these others are just weird.  Like Roger: the guy clips his toenails every night."

Neville could barely contain his laughter.  "So what?  That hardly seems ground for suspicion."

"Well, isn't it odd?  Nobody's toenails grow that fast."

"I'd be more nervous around Meg than Roger."

"Meg?"  Llian was the one who laughed this time.  "Nothing wrong with her.  She's just one of those depressed, gothic types.  A little too dramatic, maybe, but she means well, I'm sure.  She says the only reason she's an Auror is to make enough money to write poetry about death and try to get published in _Witches Weekly.  I'd be more worried about Aleta."_

"What's wrong with Aleta?"  Neville was immediately defensive.

"Are you daft?  She's a bloody assassin."

"She's on our side."

"Seems to me she has her own agenda," Llian said shrewdly.

"It's personal."

"Huh?"

"Whatever her grudge is against Death Eaters, it seems really personal.  If we were attacked, we probably couldn't hope for a better person to fight alongside us."

"All I'm saying is we should watch out for her."

"But she's nice!"

"Nice?" sputtered Llian.  "Have you been snorting pixie dust?"

"I meant, she means well.  I'm willing to bet she would risk her life to help you, just like that."  He snapped his fingers.  "I don't know why, but I like her.  She's a bit like June; well, like one side of June, but fiercer.  I'm surprised you don't like her, actually – she's a lot like Snape."

"You mean the face she puts on is just a front?"

"Something like that.  There's more to her than she pretends."

"I still don't trust her."

Neville sighed.

"I'm really serious Neville.  I think it's time to stop trusting these people so much. I know Lupin and Moody are all right, from what you've told me, but even if we could trust everybody we can't rule out the possibility that some one's under the Imperious Curse, or using Polyjuice."

"You don't think they've checked for all that?"

"You said yourself that guy last year impersonated Moody for an entire school year – and almost got away with it.  He was right under Dumbledore's nose the entire time.  I think it's possible.  It's not very likely, but we should be aware that it's possible."

"So now you want us to play detective?"

Llian lowered his voice.  "This isn't a game.  This could be the difference between life and death – not only for us, but for a lot of people.  We're vastly outnumbered; we need the Volari because we need every single person we can get."

"What are you suggesting we do?"

"I just think we should watch out for ourselves from now on.  We should keep on doing like we are, learning what we can about the rest of the group.  But we should keep an eye out for anything suspicious, just watch each other's backs.  And I think should keep a watch up at night.  We can take turns sleeping in shifts.  We need to stay alert."

As much as the lack of sleep would strain him physically and mentally, Neville found himself agreeing.  "I suppose it would make me feel more comfortable."  He stumbled over a tangle of weeds.  Llian helped him regain his balance.  "Let's do it.  The only thing is, we have to make sure staying up so much doesn't make us less alert than we should be during the day."

"Agreed.  Maybe we should let some others in on this?"

"No."

"It would help to have more people.  What about the Kents?"

"No.  For all you know one or both of them could be spies."

"But they're really sweet.  They understand me."

"Wouldn't stop them from being under the Imperious.  Besides, Death Eaters are notoriously good actors.  They could fool anyone, even their own spouses.  Just look at your father."

Llian was silent for a second.  "So we can't even confide in the Kents?"  The disappointment in his voice was evident.

Neville shook his head.  "Look, I understand you, I really do.  I like them too, and I _want_ to trust them, but we really need to keep our heads about this.  Besides, Viola has a tendency to gab – she might let something slip to the others."  Llian seemed about to protest.  "Not intentionally, of course."

Llian put a brotherly arm around Neville's shoulders.  His arm ended up resting behind Neville's head because of the bulky packs they wore.  "You know, Nev, I'm really glad you're here with me.  I don't know what I would do without you.  I would go crazy if I were out here by myself with no one but _this lot for company."_

Neville grinned.  "I guess I'm glad I'm here, too.  At least if anything happens, we'll be together."

*          *          *          *          *          *          *          *          *          *          *          *

[A/N: Credits

Replacement seeker, Ahren, is named so in honor of the elf prince, Ahren Elessedil, in Terry Brooks' trilogy _The Voyage of Jerle Shannara_

**MegMeg****, the one and only was mentioned and will shortly appear – don't expect to live long, though, the trips about to get wild!**

I apologize to **CastleRock for being late this week.  Really, you have no life – you know this, right?  Possibly the only person more pathetic than you is myself.  I can't write any more than one chap a week because I like to make each one over 4000 words – otherwise this piece of dung would be freakin' 200 chaps long!**

Yes, I might have overdone the foreshadowing quite enough...  Barren landscape, devastating war, final battle site flattened for miles, doom and despair...  It's why you keep on reading; you know you love misery, don't even try to deny it!]


	49. Temptation

50. Temptation

They were sleeping out in the open tonight.  It was so unnaturally humid that many in the group abandoned setting up tents in favor of trying to catch whatever few wisps of breeze the night sky offered.

Llian was staring at the sky.  It was magnificently clear.  Every inch was covered in tiny pinpricks of light.  He felt transfixed, as if he could memorize every detail in the fabric of the universe.  It was rare to see the sky like this – even the lights of Hogwarts dimmed the sky.  Most of his life had been spent in cities.  He was used to seeing the milky blue of Sydney or the pinkish glow of New Orleans in place of stars.

He closed his eyes and sighed.  He didn't mind taxing physical or mental activity, but this trip was exhausting, and they weren't even there yet.  Every fiber of his muscles seemed strained.  His head buzzed constantly – a numb reminder of his body's weakness.  He turned on his side and folded his hands under his head.  Edan was sleeping, flat on his back, a few feet away.  Llian watched his chest rise and fall.  He was beautiful.

Stop that, he chided himself, but he couldn't push the thought away.  Edan _was beautiful, and there was no denying it.  Llian's favorite thing about him was his blond hair; he had always found blonds slightly more attractive.  It was a kind of ash-grey color, so different from Malfoy's pure white or Eliza's yellow.  Llian couldn't stop himself from admiring from afar.  He couldn't help but notice that Edan, who was slim and fit, looked incredibly good in his forest coloring trousers and shirt.  He couldn't help that Edan's violet eyes were more gorgeous than any sunset he had ever seen.  He couldn't help but note how gentle Edan had been when he reached out to steady Llian when he had stumbled once.  He had wanted to trip again and again, just to feel Edan's light touch on his arm._

He blushed at the memory.  Edan was a few years older than him, maybe as many as four, but not enough to matter.  He loved Cho, her intelligence, wit, grace, and amiability.  But while he was attracted to her, he had never felt such lust for her as he did now for Edan.  With Edan it was different.  He choked during conversations with the Seer.  He stayed as close to him as he dared without arousing suspicion.  He would 'accidentally' let his arm touch Edan's whenever they brushed past each other.  He felt weak at the thought of Edan's pensive, mysterious face.

He mentioned none of this to Neville.  Neville was intelligent and mature, but still naïve.  He believed in things like true love.  He was in love with June and only June – there was no possibility of being attracted to anyone else.  He wouldn't understand that sometimes you could be attracted to more than one person, or that sometimes your body acted independently from your emotions.

He opened his eyes again to find Edan staring right back at him.  It was a shock that ran through every nerve in his body down to his toes, followed by a shiver of pleasure.  For a few seconds they merely stared at each other.

"We're almost there," Edan whispered.  It was the longest statement Llian had ever heard him say.  Usually he didn't talk at all, and responded to questions in grunts or else one-worded answers.  "Have you been through a portal before?"

"No.  My sister has.  She goes into dreamtime a lot."  Stupid!  Stupid!  Llian couldn't believe he had just said that.  June's ability was extremely rare and here he was offering up potential weapons.  No one besides Florean, Dumbledore, Papa, and close friends were supposed to know the depth of June or Harry's talents.  It would just make them even bigger targets for the opposing side.

Edan's eyes brightened so that they glowed.  Llian watched open-mouthed in awe.  "Truly?  Maybe I've seen her.  What form does she take?  What color is her aura?"

"She..."  Stop!  Don't tell him!  He was so entranced with Edan's glowing eyes that he almost spoke without thinking.  Telling someone your dreamtime aura was the same as telling a demon your name – both can be used as pathways to the soul.  "I'm not sure.  She doesn't talk about it much.  I don't know if she changes form or not."  People who could travel to dreamtime sometimes took on different shapes – human, animal, or otherwise strange variants of both or neither.  Usually they could shape-shift in real life too.  He didn't know about Harry, but June's form was Volari, which wasn't surprising at all.  When she was in dreamtime, she kept her wings unfolded.

Edan chuckled.  "You wouldn't know, would you?  But I think you might have some latent ability yourself.  Sometimes I can see the light shining in your eyes."  Like June.

"My sister..."  He was about to tell Edan how beautiful his sister's eyes were when they glowed carmine.  He clamped his mouth shut so that his voice ended abruptly in a strangled squeak.  

Edan shook off his sleeping bag and crawled the few feet to Llian.  His palm rested so close to Llian's head that it overlapped some of his dark hair.  Edan peered down into his face, his own face curious.  Llian often had the impression that Edan was something more than human, some other-worldly quality, and now that feeling was augmented.  His shoulder-length hair brushed Llian's cheek.  

He had a sudden urge to chew on his hair.  He longed to reach out and hold the body that was so tantalizingly close.  He felt himself trembling.

"Are you scared?" Edan asked.

Llian was mesmerized.  He wanted to lay there and stare into his eyes forever. "A bit...I feel..." Edan nodded encouragingly and reached his pale hand over to stroke Llian's cheek.  "I feel...a bit frightened sometimes.  Not know what's going to happen."  He was babbling against his will.  He tried to force himself to breathe before he passed out.

Edan smiled.  It was a small, sad smile, but the first one Llian had seen yet.  He felt something akin to exhilaration flood through him. "I'll take care of you," Edan promised.  He leaned down and kissed Llian gently on the mouth.

Llian kept his eyes closed as he listened to Edan move back to his own sleeping bag and settle down into sleep once more.  His head spun crazily, a feeling he found he enjoyed. When he finally dared to open his eyes he saw that Edan was sleeping in the exact same position he had been in five minutes ago. 

Had he dreamed it?  He wished Edan would wake up again; this time even thoughts of Cho couldn't make him feel guilty.  He had never kissed a boy before.  He'd gone on dates, held hands, but never kissed.  He rolled over onto his other side, away from Edan, to find Neville awake and staring at him.  Neither of them spoke.

He had expected to see accusations in Neville's steady gaze, but couldn't discern any.  His friend's expression was unreadable.  So much for not telling him.  Of course, Neville wouldn't mention any of this tomorrow.  Llian would know that Neville knew, and Nevillle would know that Llian knew that he knew, and that would be enough.

He rolled over onto his back to avoid having to look at anyone.  He could remember a time when Neville couldn't even make eye contact with another person, much less keep it for minutes at a time.  But Llian had managed to convince him that the only difference between them was that Neville _acted_ shy and Llian didn't.

"I'm just as scared as you are," Llian had told him.  "I just don't let it show.  I ignore my pounding heart and sweaty palms; instead I smile and nod and laugh and no one's the wiser.  Then afterwards, I forget I was shy in the first place."

Llian slowly remembered that Neville was on watch. They couldn't make it obvious that they were staying awake, so they spent as much time as they could pretending to sleep.  Llian pulled the top of his sleeping bag up to his nose and snuggled down deep in its warmth.

He dreamed of giant lizards and large tropical trees and muted voices and a man with violet eyes.

*          *          *          *          *          *          *          *          *          *          *          *

A page stuck to Eliza's forehead when she jerked awake.  Early afternoon sunlight streamed in through the dusty classroom windows.  She had been dreaming...or was it a dream?

She had been reading when suddenly He appeared.  She didn't have any other name for him other than monster.  He was a large shadow that slid unnoticed along the wall.  No one but Eliza could see him.  He had come to her and led her away.  She didn't remember much except being surrounded by green and large...what were they?  Dots of light?  Only the large dots glowed with black light. The only other thing she remembered was glancing up and catching a glimpse of gold.

She laughed nervously and thought maybe she shouldn't read herself to sleep anymore.  Every time she did, something bad happened...the house elves, the Halloween feast, the wards...

Something about the last one disturbed her.  She was fairly certain she had never heard Dumbledore announce the failed attempt at sabotaging the wards, so how did she know?  She must have overheard some teachers discussing it, she decided.  It was a strange coincidence, though...

In fact, she had been reading this very book.

Something clicked into place.  Every time she had read the book before she had tried, but failed to remember what she had read.  Her memory had been erased.  But it was as if the food in someone's mouth had been taken away – they would still have an aftertaste.  She had been trying to remember all this time what she was forgetting, not even knowing why it was important to remember something she couldn't.  She had been reading this book for months.  Months!

She dropped the book in fright.  Why hadn't anyone noticed that she'd been reading the same book over and over for months now?  Why hadn't anyone stopped her?  A horrified sob burst from her throat when she finally saw the book for what it was.

Suddenly she understood.  She remembered things that she wished she didn't: the feel of the knife cutting into flesh, slipping poison into the large vat of pumpkin juice after she had created a disturbance on the other side of the kitchen, being attacked by the wards when she failed to dislodge them...  She remembered other things too, the visions that swam constantly around her, the voices that talked to her, the mirror she had placed in Harry's room.

Yes, that had been her, she was certain!  She knew it must be true.  She had had a vague recollection of it before but had thought it nothing more than a dream.  Besides, she had been too afraid that it was true to dare confront Harry about it.  The mirror was slowly sucking out Harry's soul.  Every time someone looked into it, a piece of their soul reached out and was pulled into it.  That was how the mirror was able to reflect a person's deepest desire so accurately.  Eliza had seen such magic before, this kind that relied on the soul of a person, and she knew what it could do.  This was the reason why excessive, repeated viewing could eventually drive people mad and make them little better than zombies.  Harry, she could imagine, had an enormously strong soul, but he was definitely showing signs of repeated use.  Less than a week ago he had almost closed the portal on himself in dreamtime and drifted away lost forever.  It was affecting him badly.

That was what the book wanted.

It was now crystal clear to Eliza – the book needed Harry weakened.  The only way to do that was gradually.  If Harry was attacked full out he would repel it without thinking.  His subconscious wards would protect him and exterminate whatever threatened.  But if he allowed himself to be slowly drained when he thought himself safe, he wouldn't be able to save himself.  The book would be able to possess him.

As it had her.

She screamed in helplessness and frustration, kicking the book across the room as she cried.  The book had never wanted her, it wanted Harry.  It had always kept its eye on Harry's destruction.

There was only one thing for her to do: she would have to take the book and flee.  If Harry tried to confront it in his present state, he wouldn't stand a chance.  And she wouldn't be able to warn him.  The book had too much control over her for her to speak of it; she could feel this to be true.

She shoved the book into her booksack and headed down the hall towards her common room.  She would bring a few necessities with her, a change of clothes, food, a blanket and coat.  When she entered the large room, she found it empty.

The Quidditch match!

Something clicked into place in her mind.  The dream, the flying black balls of light surrounded by green, a flash of gold overhead, everything bad happening while she was in a reading-induced sleep...

In a heartbeat she was out the door at a sprint.  She jumped down the stairs two by two and before she knew it she was at the Entrance Hall.  But she had no time to rest.  She burst through the front doors and could see the very end of the crowd disappearing into the stands.  The game would start soon.

She kept sprinting, marveling at how several months ago she would have collapsed after trying to run full out less than half of this distance.  She supposed she had Llian to thank, he and his 6:00 AM running practices.

Please let it start late, please let it start late...  Her breath was coming out in small sobs.  If anything happened it would be her fault.  She was getting tired, but she didn't let up her speed for anything – lives were at stake.  She tripped over a weed once but was up and running again in an instant, a smear of dirt added to the knees and elbows of her robe.

Please let me make it there on time, please let me make it there on time...

The shadows that pursued her relentlessly merely laughed.

*          *          *          *          *          *          *          *          *          *          *          *

Harry was glad for many reasons at present.  He was glad for the protection that Llian and Neville's departure had bought him.  His closest friends and the teachers who knew the truth assumed that his disinterest in sleep, his refusal to eat, his lousy performance during class were all due to his two friend's disappearance.  He was able to spend even more time alone in his room.  A part of him wanted to scream out to everyone, "Are you blind?  Can't you see what's happening to me?  Help me!"

But he had found himself, as always, unable to ask for help.  He had never gone to others to solve his problems before and he certainly wasn't going to now. Besides, he didn't want it to stop.  He needed more time with the mirror.  He had the feeling that if he sated his growing appetite just one more time, then everything else would fall into place – his disintegrating friendships, sloppy schoolwork...

Mostly, at this moment, he was glad that the game was Hufflepuff versus Ravenclaw.  Were his house involved, he would be expected to expend a lot more energy, which he wasn't particularly up to doing.  So he was glad that he could sit in the back of the stands between Hermione and Ron and watch in silence as the crowd gathered.  Besides, his flying had been somewhat less than perfect for the past couple weeks.  Ginny, thankfully, was able to cover for him during practice.  She had just stopped by less than a minute ago, looking for Eliza.

June suddenly plopped down in the seat directly in front of him, sitting backwards so that she faced him.  "Harry, do you feel anything?"

He raised an eyebrow at her strange question.  "What do you mean?"

She spoke hurriedly.  "Something's wrong.  Something's very wrong and I don't know what.  I've already spoken with Professor Dumbledore and Florean, and then Papa, but they won't cancel the Quidditch game.  My premonition is unfocused, so it doesn't count worth shit," she spat out bitterly.  "I just...  Help me, Harry!"  She looked desperate.  "Something's going to happen, I just know it!  I _have to stop it, but I don't even know what it is I need to stop!"_

Harry felt genuinely sorry for her, but at the same time felt detached from her problem.  It wasn't really anything he needed to be bothered with.  "Sorry, I can't help you."  Looking around, he saw there was an increase in the number of teachers present.  "I don't have anything to contribute.  I don't feel anything."  He pushed aside the nagging thought that even if he did feel something he doubted he could perceive and understand it through the haze that encircled his mind.

June bit her lip.  "Maybe I should just run down there and start hexing players.  That would get them to stop and bring everybody inside."

Harry shook his head.  "First off, they'd just bring in whoever was on the reserve team.  Second, you would be dragged off and punished before you could hex everybody.  Third, what if the danger you feel is actually inside?  You said it's unfocused, so you can't tell where it's coming from, can you?"

She hung her head in shame.  He understood how she felt.  If something really was wrong, she would later blame herself for her incompetence in Divination.  He sighed.  "Let's just enjoy the game, and keep an eye out for mischief, okay?  We're not immortals – there's not a hell of a lot more we _can do."_

June's eyes were watering.  "I'm going down there to investigate."  She stormed off, furious that the only person who understood her premonitions and dreamtime romps was unwilling to help her.

He watched her go without interest.  Maybe she would find what she was looking for, maybe she wouldn't.  It wasn't really his problem.  He remembered when there was a time he would have been curious and willing to poke his nose around in everyone else's business, but he was much more mature than that now.  Ron and Hermione were giving him odd looks, but they pointedly didn't say anything.  He noticed that they were keeping a sharper eye out for anything suspicious.  Bully for them.  He slouched down farther in his seat, hoping the game would be quick so he could retreat to the seclusion of his room.  Even Ron would be nice enough to give him time alone.  For that, and many other things, he was glad.

*          *          *          *          *          *          *          *          *          *          *          *

That jerk!  Her jaw was clenched in fury as she ran down the steps two at a time towards the locker rooms.  How dare he not even bother to get up off his lazy butt and help her?  Who the hell did he think she was, some amateur who didn't know what she was talking about?  She had been making prophecies before he could even walk.  How dare he brush her off like that, telling her everything was going to be okay?  Everything was certainly _not_ going to be okay, unless she did something about it – and fast!

She walked into the Hufflepuff locker room without knocking first.  She stood on a nearby bench besides where Ernie, the acting team captain, had jumped to his feet.  Ignoring their protests, she began to speak.  "Listen up, all of you, I know this is going to sound incredibly weird, but you better pay attention to what I have to say.  How many of you know I'm a Seer?"  A couple of them muttered, some shook their heads, but one or two nodded.  "Well I am, and I've had a premonition, but there's a problem – it's unfocused.  I don't have time to explain the technical terms to you, but basically it means I have nothing more than a feeling to go by.  I _feel that something bad is going to happen, but I can't be certain when, where, or even what is going to happen.  So I want all of you to be careful – absolutely careful!  I want all of you to keep an eye out for anything suspicious.  Watch out for yourselves and help the other team, too.  Okay?"  Some of them still looked at her in disbelief, but they were willing to accept her word.  "Good, now go tell the Ravenclaw team what I just told you.  None of the teachers will agree to stop the game, and I'm not supposed to be telling you this.  No one wants Seers to spread their bad news – they're afraid of creating chaos."  She paused for a second.  She usually would wilt having to address a group of people, but she didn't feel even a tiny bit afraid.  She was in charge, and everyone listening respected her.  She jumped back down to the ground.  "I have to go now," she said bluntly and charged out of the room._

She checked that Madame Hooch was busy talking with a student and broke the lock on the broom closet.  She knew several charms to check for hexes and set out doing them at once.  The Ravenclaws would listen to the Hufflepuffs; the Hufflepuffs wouldn't lie about something like that.  Hopefully, they would believe them, too.  They _were_ sometimes known for being a bit...doltish.  

"Young lady!  What do you think you're doing?"  Professor McGonagall strode into the room with Madame Hooch right behind her.  Both of them looked furious.  

"I'm checking the brooms for hexes, and if you have even an iota of intelligence you'll help me!" she shrieked, unwilling to waste even more time explaining herself to people.  

They both stopped and gaped at her.  June was usually very timid and respectful; her outburst seemed completely out of character.  If only they knew what I'm really like, she thought to herself.  McGonagall regained her composure first.  "Professor Dumbledore has told you-"

"I don't care what Professor Dumbledore said!  Don't you get it?  I'd rather be the laughing-stock of the entire school and face expulsion than risk someone getting hurt!  Don't you think your students' lives are worth more than a bloody Quidditch game?!"

McGonagall's nostrils flared.  "I won't be spoken to like that by a student.  Your father would be ashamed of your behavior.  You-"

"Please help her, Minerva," a voice said behind them.  It was Papa.  He looked worried and sad at the same time.  "What can it hurt?  How many times have you seen June act like this?  When is that last time she made a prediction that didn't come true?  Do you really think she would do this if she didn't truly believe in what she feels?"

Professor McGonagall shook her head.  "This is insanity," she muttered, but they quickly set about checking the other brooms.  June wanted to run further tests of them, but McGonagall stopped her.  "That's enough, June.  The game is starting soon."

June stood in a corner and watched in despair as the team members who didn't own their own brooms marched in and grabbed the ones designated for their team.  They glanced at her and were disturbed by her presence, but didn't say anything.  No doubt they thought that she was bringing bad luck to the game.  She wanted to sink to her knees and cry.

Everyone left except for her and her papa.  He started towards her, arms outreached to draw her into a hug, but she pushed past him without thanking him.  He stared at the empty doorway for a second, his face showing hurt for a second before the familiar mask of indifference fell back into place.  Outside, June followed Madame Hooch out onto the field.  She could go ahead and grow out her wings to be prepared incase she were needed.  It was laughable that she could be more prepared than anyone else – she knew she wasn't.  In fact, she didn't have very much to distinguish her at all.  She didn't consider herself overly intelligence or quick or witty.  She would likely be one the last people to notice if anything did go wrong.  She wanted to scream in frustration.

She almost walked straight into Madame Hooch.  "No one but team members allowed on the field!" she insisted.

June ignored her.  She took off her sweater and robes and threw them on the grass besides a goal post.  Underneath she had a pair of cozy cotton sweatpants and a tank top which had a back that went below her shoulder blades.  "I'm going to help patrol the game," she explained, quickly growing her wings out.  Madame Hooch stared at her wide-eyed.  Very few people at Hogwarts had ever seen a full Volari with their wings out up close.  "I'll sit up there," she said, pointing to a spot on top of the stands that gave a good view of the entire field and also the grounds of Hogwarts beyond the pitch all the way over to the forest.

"I won't have this disruption!  This has gone far enough!" Madame Hooch shouted, but June was already in the air, flying away.  Her carmine wings caught the sunlight and everyone in the stands turned to look as she glided up and settled on the top of the stands, crouching like some kind of gargoyle. 

Dumbledore, from his spot at the bottom of stands, watched in silence.  Snape joined him a second later, looking edgy.

Madame Hooch waited a second for Dumbledore to stop June, but he settled back in his seat, so she shrugged angrily and marched over to where the teams were lined up in the middle of the field.  She explained the rules as always, clipping her words short out of frustration.  What was wrong with June?  She had always been such a sweet, quiet girl before.

It was a clear, windless day, perfect for Quidditch.  She had almost forgotten the earlier interruptions as she put the whistle in her mouth while simultaneously drawing back her arm to throw the Quaffle.

*          *          *          *          *          *          *          *          *          *          *          *          

Eliza entered the field and immediately assessed the situation.  The teams were already lined up and she was on the far side of the field.  No one would pay her any attention.  She quickly put a charm on herself to magnify her voice and boomed out just as Madame Hooch drew back her arm to throw the Quaffle, "NOOO!!  STOP THE GAME IMMEDIATELY!!"

Everyone in the stands jumped and looked around to try to find from where the sound had come.  Madame Hooch almost dropped the Quaffle in surprise, but caught it instantly and hugged it to her chest as she looked around suspiciously.  Eliza continued sprinting across the field.  She took off the charm.

The teams had started to drift down to the ground, but the ball handler, a third-year Gryffindor, had already let the two bludgers go.  He was able to grab hold of one and shove it back into the box, but the other one sped away, hurtling through the air at a terrifying speed.

Eliza reached the two teams the same time Professors Dumbledore and Snape did.  For an old man, the Headmaster could move amazingly fast when something demanded his attention.  She stopped beside them and leaned over, holding onto her legs right above her knees as she tried to regain her breath.  "Can't...have...game...  Something...wrong..."

"Did you have a premonition, too?" Professor Snape asked, looking skeptical.

Eliza shook her head.  She started to open her mouth to tell them everything, about Harry and the mirror and book and how she had done _everything_, but nothing came out.   She tried harder, but when she tried to tell them anything of importance, she wasn't able to make a sound.  

Of course I can't, I'm possessed, she cursed herself.  "I can't tell you!"  She tried to give them a significant look but they failed to interpret it correctly.  

Snape instantly grabbed her by the collar.  "Who are you trying to protect, you little cretin?  What's going on?"

"I'm telling you that you have to stop this game!  Look, I didn't have a premonition, but I _know that something is wrong, but I can't-"_

Her voice shut off immediately when she tried to explain her predicament.

"Put her down Severus," Dumbledore commanded.  Snape let go of her robe and none too gently.  "What is it you are trying to tell us?"  He leaned down to hear her better, his wrinkled face full of kindness.

Eliza wanted to cry.  "It's about-"  She started to say the missing book from the Restricted section, but couldn't.  "Remember how you were all worried about Harry last week?  When he came to your office?"  He nodded.  Snape looked even more suspicious.  "He's-"  Once again she couldn't tell them that he wasn't the one they had to worry about.

Dumbledore instantly looked concerned.  "Is something wrong with Harry?"

Eliza remembered the mirror.  "Yes."  Dumbledore glanced at the bludger box.  "No, not that!  He didn't do this.  Someone else-"  She grit her teeth in frustration.  "Professor!" she shouted urgently, to regain his attention, as he had started to scan the stands for Harry.  She thought of an idea.  "Wouldn't it be frustrating if you knew something but were unable to say it?  I've heard of Muggles who viewed witches' ceremonies in the thirteenth century but had a charm placed on them to prevent them from coming out and saying what they knew.  It's a version of the Imperious.  Can you imagine how it felt?"  She started to shake with frustration.  How much more obvious could she be?  "What would you do if this happened to you and you were trying to tell people...things?"

They stared at her.  Dumbledore's eyes started to widen in understanding when they suddenly heard a loud boom behind them as a small section of the stands exploded into wooden fragments.

*          *          *          *          *          *          *          *          *          *          *          *

[A/N:  Sorry **CastleRock**, it's harder to write when you don't have anything to do all day.  Wasn't that a horrible place to end?  But if I go further, I won't be able to stop for at least six more pages, so I'll save it for later.  Don't worry; none of the _main characters are going to die...yet...]_


	50. Escape

[A/N: It's a multiple viewpoint fiasco!  Warning for gruesome death, cursing, seduction (sweet seduction!), and...more death!]

51. Escape

Colin checked his bag one more time to make sure he had an extra roll of film.  The roll in his camera already had eighteen pictures on it, all from end-of-the-holiday festivities.  He was a much better photographer now than he had been as a naïve first year.  His pictures were actually coming along (developing!) quite nicely, if nothing else than from the sheer amount of practice.  His uncle Benji had been a photojournalist before he died in a car accident in South Africa.  Perhaps photography ran in the family genes.

Dennis tugged on his arm.  "Do you have any more chocolate frogs?" he asked, his voice still so high it might have been a girl's.  Colin rolled his eyes.  Dennis was really such a baby sometimes.  He loved his brother to death, but sometimes he felt conspicuously _uncool having his little brother tag around everywhere.  He was torn between loving Dennis more than life and wanted to hex him into oblivion just for being such an annoying prat._

"You've already eaten three.  If you eat one more we won't have an equal amount anymore," he said.  They had only brought six chocolate frogs to the game to split between the two of them and Dennis had already eaten his share.

"Please?" Dennis whined, trying to reach across Colin to where the candy was stored in his beat-up camera bag.

"Lay off, Dennis!  Do you always have to be so annoying?  Just watch the game already."

Dennis pouted.  He waited until Colin wasn't looking before snatching a frog and leaping into the aisle to escape.  At that moment, June rushed by, unintentionally knocking him off balance so he fell on his butt.  Colin took the opportunity to make use of the newly learned Summoning charm.

Dennis sat down again, a childish pout still on his lips.  "Stop being such a baby," Colin said, now thoroughly angered.  His brother continued sending him hurt looks.  "Okay, okay, I have more in my trunk – I'll let you split them with me after the game.  Alright?"  He couldn't stand being mean to Dennis; the kid was just too sweet.

Dennis brightened and gave his big brother a hug and a sloppy kiss on the cheek.  "Stop all that," Colin muttered, his face turning red.  He glanced around to make sure that none of the girls in his year had been watching.  He was willing to bet that he was the only boy in the school that let his little brother sleep with him when he had nightmares.  

"What's wrong with you?" Dennis demanded.

"I'm a lot older than you.  I don't want you acting like a child anymore."

"How was I acting like a child?"

"You were being all mushy, that's how."

"So?  What's wrong with being affectionate?  I love you.  What does any of that have to do with being grown-up?"

Colin lowered his voice.  "Look, it's not cool, is what, okay?"

Dennis looked doubtful.  "So now you don't want me to kiss you goodnight or nuffin?"

Colin cringed at the hurt look on his brother's face.  "Of course you still can, just not in front of everybody, okay?"

Dennis grudgingly agreed.  "Okay.  But I still think _you're the one acting stupid, and all."_

They were both spared from Colin's response by a huge shadow that flew over-head.  It was June.  She had wings!

Dennis gaped in shock but Colin took the camera off his lap and captured as many frames of her powerful flight as possible.  It was amazing!  June was now almost as awesome, in Colin's mind, as Harry Potter.  They would be beautiful pictures, he marveled.  Maybe once he got better he could sell them.  It would beat getting a summer job.

He had one more picture left on the roll.  He focused his camera on the two teams lined up next to Madame Hooch, hoping for a shot of the start.  Suddenly a loud voice, a girl's voice but as terrifying as a giant's, boomed out, "No!  Stop the game immediately!"  He dropped the camera in his lap in surprise.

He brought the viewfinder back up to his face and used the camera like binoculars.  Eliza was sprinting across the field.  He watched as she stopped before Professor Dumbledore and Professor Snape.  They launched into what appeared to be a heated discussion.  He wondered what they were saying.

Movement at the top of the frame distracted him.  It was a lone bludger.  He watched it sail back and forth.  It was coming dangerously close to the stands.  In fact, if he didn't already know that bludgers were designed to stay away from the stands, he would guess that it was heading straight for him.  There was something odd about it, though.  His stomach knotted.  It still hadn't changed its course.

There was a lone moment, a small fraction of a second outside time, when he realized that it wasn't going to change course, and that it was heading straight for him.

A loud boom threw him off his seat.  He felt sharp slivers of what felt like glass become embedded in his back, his cheek, his arms.  The bludger had destroyed a small portion of the stand right beside him.  He realized the splinters in his skin were from fragments of wood.  Blood was dripping down his face and arms, but he didn't notice.

"Dennis?"  His brother was crumpled in a ball.  He turned the smaller boy over on his back.  His mind was too numb for him to be horrified.  The bludger had hit Dennis full in the head.  The front of his face had collapsed in.  There was blood and crushed bone everywhere.  He couldn't even see Dennis's face anymore.

"Dennis!"  He folded his arms around the boy to comfort him until a teacher came to bring him to the hospital wing.  Dennis appeared to be unconscious – he didn't respond.  But Colin continued to comfort him.  He kissed his brother's face again and again.  "It's going to be okay, Dennis, alright?  I don't care if you kiss me in public, okay?  Just hang on, and Madame Pomphrey will take care of you.  I'm here for you, alright?"  He couldn't even tell where his cheek was, but he continued kissing him all the same.  He was vaguely aware of the loud booms the bludger made as it continued to assault the stands.  People were screaming all around, but for him there was only silence.

Someone hugged him from behind and pulled him away.  "Let go!" he shouted, struggling against the unseen enemy.  Other students were crowding around, blocking his view of Dennis.  He flailed his arms desperately and twisted around to see his assailant.  He needed to escape.

"Fred!  What are you doing?  Let go of me, okay?  Dennis will be scared!  I have to be there for him.  Let GO!!"  But Fred shook his head.

"He's dead, Colin."  He struggled even harder to free himself, but Fred didn't let up.  Fred never told the truth.  He must be lying now.  But Fred just held him even tighter and insisted, "He's dead."

Colin stopped struggling and let himself go limp in Fred's arms.  Fred bowed his head and held Colin closer.  Dennis's head had been crushed by a bludger.  He was dead.

He should have let him have that chocolate frog afterall.

*          *          *          *          *          *          *          *          *          *          *          *

June watched from her perch atop the stands as Eliza sped across the field.  Her brow creased as Professor Dumbledore and Papa joined her.  Had Eliza felt something?  Seen something?

She stretched out her wings and prepared to glide down to find out when a loud crash made her jump and almost slip.  She looked around and quickly found the source of the sound.  The bludger had crashed straight into the stands.  Bludgers never did that.  Even if a Beater hit it straight at the stands it was charmed to avoid them at all costs.  

It went to the other side the field and started attacking the stands there, too.  Students and teachers alike tried to send charms at it, but it was moving too fast.  No one could catch it without endangering even more children.  The Quidditch teams, she saw, were quickly hustled off their brooms.  The teachers might give chase, but they wouldn't be as quick as the students.  Without a second more hesitation, June leapt off the side and was flying through the air after the bludger.  It tried to elude her at first by flying in loops and crashing into even more places.  She didn't let it out of her sight.  She was gaining on it.

It changed tactics and flew higher, away from the stands, hoping to distance itself.  "Ha, as if it were alive," she muttered.  Someone had charmed this bludger not only to create havoc, but to resist entrapment.  "I'll get you, you fucking bastard," she promised it.  She reached out her hands to catch it, but it flew even higher.  "You can't escape me!" she shouted in frustration, even though it was useless shouting at a ball.

Suddenly it started on a more effective tactic: charging straight at June.  The first time she didn't expect it and was hit full in the stomach.  She started to fall, unable to breathe or see correctly.  There was a sharp piercing pain in her lung.  It must have fractured a rib or something, she thought.  The ground was almost a quarter of a mile beneath her.  She couldn't tell exactly, but she had plenty of time to regain her flight.  Farther down to fall, though, she realized.  Maybe that was why the bludger had lured her up here in the first place.  Someone was really good at these types of charms.  It took a lot of talent to make a bludger practically sentient.

It flew at her again, but she dodged it easily.  "You'll have to try harder than that!" she taunted it, feeling triumphant, and at the same time stupid for talking outloud to herself.  But it didn't relent for a second; it flew at her again and again.

After a short while she was tired.  Volari wings were designed for long, sustained flight, not these quick sprints.  Her wings were already strained.  She tried to fly lower incase someone could help her, but decided to stay up high afterall.  If the bludger were lower it would attack the stands again, and no teacher would risk sending a curse at a bludger that was so close to her.  She saw Papa flying up on a broom and flew even higher in fright.  She couldn't risk his getting hurt.

"Go away!" she shouted down to him.  "I've got it!  Just give me more time!"  She hoped he would listen.  He might even get in the way.  She was born to fly.

Unfortunately, so was the bludger.  It grazed the top of her wings, breaking the topmost bones as if they were toothpicks.  She screamed and started to fall again.  She saw her papa racing towards her, his face intent on saving her.  The bludger hit him full in the back.  He collapsed over the front of his broom and they both fell together.  

She regained her wings again and started to dive after him when the bludger came at her again.  It seemed to come from all sides at once.  Even though she tried to dodge it, it hit her more times that not.  It grazed by her left hand, breaking several fingers, and then her knee, the bad knee that she had hurt months ago that never fully healed.  She screamed in pain and frustration.  She would have to end this soon or else it would cause her to fall on her own.  

She would have to use Volari magic.  Volari magic didn't rely on a narrow beam of magic sent at an object – it surrounded the object in question no matter where it was.  It would dangerous to her to try while she was up so high, but it seemed the only way.  She summoned the magic to her fingertips and felt it soar around the bludger.  She quickly bonded it to herself and pulled it straight for her.  When it connected with her stomach she wrapped her arms around it.  The breath had been knocked out of her, but she didn't need it – she had the bludger now, that was all that mattered, and she wasn't going to let go for anything.

They fell together as she sunk into darkness.

*          *          *          *          *          *          *          *          *          *          *          *

Harry stood beside a grieving Colin.  The number of injured students in the hospital wing blurred together into one wailing lump.  He couldn't believe all of that had just happened.  It was as if he had watched a movie.  Was he even there?  Insanely, he thought of slipping away to his room, since likely everyone would be occupied for a long time.

He was suddenly terrified.  Something was definitely, definitely wrong with him when he could be thinking about spending more time with the mirror when there were so many injured, and poor Dennis lay dead awaiting his parents arrival.  He slipped back behind Hermione and Ron.  They had been instructed by Professor Dumbledore to stay with Harry at all times, and Professor Snape had brought them all up to the hospital wing with him.  Did they know something?  Why were they taking such pains to make sure he didn't stray from their sight?

He slipped out of the entrance.  Everyone was occupied for now, and he found himself unable to resist the temptation to escape.  Eliza was under close watch by Professor Snape, also under Dumbledore's orders, but he had seen her slip out unnoticed five minutes ago.

He walked down the hall aimlessly until he felt a tug on his sleeve.  It was Eliza.  She smiled knowingly at him.  "Where do you think you're going, little Harry?"

Harry blinked.  "What's going on, Eliza?  I don't understand."

"Do you want to?"  He nodded slowly.  She beckoned him into an empty classroom [A/N: There are conveniently an abundance of those at Hogwarts, eh?].  She locked the door behind her.  "Harry, have you enjoyed my mirror?"

"You – your mirror?  You put that there?"  She smiled in reply.  "Why?"

"For your pleasure," she purred.  Her voice and face were the same they always were, but sometime about her tone was different.  Harry was unable to put his finger on it.  "Have you enjoyed it?"

He wasn't sure how to respond.  He _had_ enjoyed it.  "Yes..."  His eyes clouded over as he was suddenly hit with a fit of longing so powerful it made him gasp.

"Would you like more?  Would you like to be one with it forever?  To never be separated again?"

He clutched his stomach and fell to his knees.  "Yesss...yes....  Oh, sweet gods, yes..."  Tears of anguish fell from his eyes.  Please, oh please, I need more, I want more, I must have it....  He bit his lip, trying to suppress the thoughts, but they only came stronger.  "Please!" he begged her.  "Help me!"

She smiled, satisfied.  "I can help you," she promised.  "There is a solution, a release from your pain, but you must follow my instructions."

  
"Yes...anything..."  He was on his hands and knees, staring at the stone floor.  The energy had disappeared from his body.

"You must make your mind open.  You must not resist.  Be...receptive," she instructed.  "Do not resist," she repeated.  She brought a book out of her booksack and placed it in front of Harry's face.  The book reached up and pulled Harry into itself.  He did not resist.

*          *          *          *          *          *          *          *          *          *          *          *

June screamed.  "There, there, doesn't that feel better?" Madame Pomphrey asked anxiously.  Healing a broken rib was almost as painful as breaking it.  She shrank away as the mediwitch leaned closer to heal the next one.

"It's fine, really.  A lot better.  Thanks," she gasped, trying to shove Madame Pomphrey's hand away from her side.

"You still have another rib that needs fixing!  Don't think I'm going to let you walk around with it unhealed – goodness, you might poke a hole in your lung.  You certainly don't want that, now do you?"

June tried not to whimper as Pomphrey inched her hands closer.  "It hurts!"

Papa was suddenly there next to her.  He wrapped his arms around her and murmured comfortingly in her ear, "It will only be a second, sweetheart.  Just a second.  It's okay.  Close your eyes – it's better if you don't know when it's coming."  June closed her eyes as instructed and waited for more devastating pain.  She was lucky to be alive, really.  She had blacked out after the bludger had smashed into her that last time.  Luckily, Papa had recovered enough to fly after her again.

She screamed again when Pomphrey made the final adjustment.  It hurt even more the second time.  Papa gave her a swirling brown potion and she downed it without even asking what it was.  She allowed herself to lean back into the hospital bed and close her eyes against the multitude of milling students and teachers.  Papa ran his thin fingers through her hair for a few seconds before going elsewhere.  She wished everything could be okay now, but she knew it was just the beginning of an even harder fight.  Something would have to be done about Harry and Eliza.  Eliza especially was put in a precarious situation, especially legally.  They would have to destroy the book to save them both, thus loosing all evidence.  With the current Minister believing that the Dark activity was unorganized, Eliza wouldn't get a sympathetic ear.  She could be charged with the poisoning of the school over Halloween and the death of the house elves (not that the Ministry would care about their deaths as any more than a loss of property).

A disruption made her jerk back up, which her still aching ribs quickly made her regret.  "Where are they?" Dumbledore raged.  She had never seen him so angry.  He was spitting as he shouted.  The air was so full of magic that it tickled her skin.

"I told all of you to not let them out of your sight!"

Instantly, she knew they were talking about Eliza and Harry.  She closed her eyes briefly and cast about for either of the student's presence, but found neither.  After slipping out of her bed, she found their aura trails, Harry's bright green and Eliza's yellow, and followed them out of the door.  She heard footsteps following her, but was to intent to turn around and confront whoever it was.  The trails led to an empty classroom less than a hallway away.  The window was open.

"They left," she said weakly, her voice thin in the large classroom.  "They're both on Harry's Firebolt.  He summoned it.  They're both...changed."  There was a gasp from behind her.  "I'm going after them."  Without another word, she jumped out of the window.  The top of her left wing was still crushed, making her fly slightly to the side, but not anything she couldn't correct with effort.  She should have let Madame Pomphrey fix that before leaving, but she wasn't going to turn around now for anything.  She would see this through to the end.

*          *          *          *          *          *          *          *          *          *          *          *          

Severus did all he could to stop himself from cowering in fear at Dumbledore's rage.  He had been too busy comforting June, his little angel, to keep an eye fully on Eliza or Harry.  It had been hard enough trying to make and distribute potions while keeping the Hufflepuff in view, but when June had called out in pain he was unable to stop himself from dropping anything and running to her side.  How had he become so soft?  A year ago he would have been cool and disinterested.  But now he couldn't stop himself – how could he not want to comfort little June when she was in pain?

He had wanted to cry when she went after the bludger by herself, even more so when he saw that it was attacking her.  At that height, she would have died if she fell.  He had felt how devastating a single blow from the bludger could be, and she had endured blow and blow.  He had once been so callous about his own body, back when he still considered himself a Death Eater and thought that dying was beneath him.

"I told you not to let them out of your sight!" Albus fumed.  He was furious, but Severus could see it was mainly fueled by worry.  He loved that Potter boy too much – his feelings could cause him harm someday if he weren't careful.  

He felt deep shame.  It had been an easy charge, and he had managed to blotch it miserably.  Both students had escaped from the hospital wing and they had no way to find them.  He wanted to cry even more now; not that he ever would.  No student or teacher here had ever seen a single emotion cross his face save fury, and he didn't intend to change that now.

But as he hung his head, he saw movement out the corner of his eye and turned to find June slipping out of the door.  Of course!  June would be able to find Harry anywhere.  They were linked, more often than not.  He didn't know how much they kept up their mind link, but even without it June could follow his aura.

He motioned to Albus and they set off after June.  It wasn't a long trip, for she soon turned into a classroom.  They ran into it to find it empty.  She continued to stare ahead, as if in a trance.  "They left..." she said distantly.  They listened in silence as she explained the situation.  Severus repressed a shudder.  No matter how many times he had observed the knowledge that a trance could evoke, it never ceased to give him the chills.

But then June suddenly jumped up on the windowsill and leaped outside, stretching out her bruised wings as she fell.  "June!" he shrieked.  Bloody Gryffindors!  Why did they always think it was their god-given duty to isolate themselves with danger?  Why couldn't they ever just let things rest?  More importantly, what did June, his June, think she was doing running around after an item of dark magic without his permission?

He summoned a broom from the Quidditch field.  "I'll stop her," he said, "and then follow the other two."

"No," Albus said.  He held the sleeve to Severus's robe as if he owned it.

"No.  No?!  What the bloody hell do you mean, no?!!  This is my daughter's life we're talking about!"

Albus seemed to age twenty years in several seconds.  "You can't follow her.  You must stay here," he said wearily.

"I have no intention of staying here!" he shrieked, beside himself with indignation.

"Florean has already foreseen this situation, and you have already agreed to the consequences."

Severus's breath caught in his throat.  "It's...you mean, this is it?  This is what Florean foresaw?"

Albus nodded.  "I believe so."

Severus sat heavily on the floor.  It seemed ages ago when Florean had come forth with his dream, his prophecy.  June, a lone bird, would have to undertake a journey of her own, in search of a dark light, a wasps nest full of dark magic.  There was more that Severus didn't remember, but he recalled the end well enough: the journey would end in destruction – the destruction of any who dared follow June, the destruction of life, and the destruction of magic.  He didn't know what it all meant, but it seemed fairly obvious.  Someone was going to die.  He hid his face in his knees and tried to repress the sobs that erupted from deep in his chest.  Someone was going to die and it might be June.

And there wasn't a damned thing he could do about it.

*          *          *          *          *          *          *          *          *          *          *          *

Harry was waiting for June.  He sat in the middle of the clearing, his legs crossed.  She landed a bit away from him, uncertain how to proceed.  It was all fine and glorious when it was promises to hunt down Harry, but now that she had found him, after several hours' flight, what should she do now?  Hex him?

Likely, the book would have already possessed him.  His powers would be augmented by the dark magic in the book.  Eliza was lurking about, too.  She could feel her presence in her mind.  The Hufflepuff was nearby, probably within eyesight, but hiding.

"Harry?" she asked.

He smiled.  "Have you come to visit me, June?"  His voice was deeper than usual.  "I've found a new book that I think you'd really enjoy.  It's a real kill." 

She gulped.  "So I've heard.  Could I see this book of yours?"

"Come closer, beautiful," he purred.  It wasn't Harry talking, that much was obvious.  Harry didn't _purr._

"Show me the book."

A look of annoyance flickered across his face.  "You wish to play games?  Play this one."

He cast a dark web around her with a twist of his slim wrist.  She extended her wings full-out and pierced through it.  "Yes, that was fun.  Let's play some more.  And this time I'd like a bit of a challenge."

Harry grinned.  "As you wish."

Something slammed into her from the side.  Eliza.  For a second she was on the ground, disoriented and confused.  What was happening?  She tried to sit up but something hit her again.  She groaned and rolled over onto her back.  Eliza stood over her.  "Had enough?"

June pretended to consider it.  "No," she said, simultaneously throwing Eliza to the ground with a quick Volari thrust of magic.  They got to their feet at the same time.  Stalemate.

"You cannot defeat us.  Join us, and it will be glorious," Eliza hissed.

"I prefer keeping my soul, thanks though," June said nervously.  She couldn't believe she was being so flippant.  If she didn't though, she would soon succumb to the terror of the situation and panic.  She had to keep her cool, and act like she was in control.  If she acted powerful and calm, she might at the very least fool herself into believing she was.  Llian had always told her that the main difference between them wasn't how they felt, it was how they acted and caused the world to perceive them.  She doubted, however, that the Harry/Eliza/crazy-ass book being was much fooled.

"What do you want?" she demanded.  "You could have just led me to Voldemort and let him overtake me.  Why did you stop so soon?"

"Voldemort," Harry spat distastefully.  "The Dark Lord is powerful, but his ambitions are naïve.  He wishes to control your body; I want nothing more than your soul."

"Sounds fair enough."  Merlin, what was she saying!  Keep talking, she told herself, keep talking and maybe both her and the creature would stay distracted.  "But you didn't answer my question."

"Voldemort is foolish and would waste your perfection of mind and power.  I know how to put you to better use.  I am not forbidden to take these matters into my own hands, but I must, under orders, return to him."

Suddenly she understood.  "So you waited for me so you could suck out my Volari power.  With the power of a competent witch, Harry Potter, _and_ a Volari, you would be able to break your bonds to Voldemort."

Harry smiled.  "Correct, little one.  I have been watching you a long time.  I have always sought to make you mine."

"A Volari's power is enough to break your bonds.  You don't need these two.  You only had to take them for Voldemort, right?"

"This does not matter to you."

"Oh, but it does.  With my power, you won't need them, correct?"

It started to get the gist of what she was saying.  "Perhaps not..."

"If I give you my power, will you let them go?"  She winced at her own words.  They were so...Gryffindorish.  So predictable.  Why the hell didn't anyone just run away?  Why didn't she just run away?  Damn myself, she cursed.  She couldn't just leave them.

"Perhaps....  I think I will, little creature.  Your power for your friend's pitiful lives."

"Sounds good."  She glanced around.  The clearing was far enough away from human life to evoke her Volari powers, but Harry and Eliza would still be harmed.  She couldn't believe the creature actually thought she would be so stupid.  "But tell those two to step away first, and then I'll transfer my power to you."

Harry and Eliza obediently stepped away, leaving a book lying in the middle of the clearing.  June turned and grinned lopsidedly at the two.  "I don't know if you guys can hear me, but if this goes wrong, I'm sorry."

Before the creature could react, she gathered all the power she could muster, from the very depths of her being, and focused it solely on one curse: the Killing Curse.

Light flooded through her.  There was pain all around.  It was her pain.  She was pain.  It would never end.

*          *          *          *          *          *          *          *          *          *          *          *

Eliza's eyes flooded open when a drop of rain fell on her eyelid.  "What?"  It was Harry, squatting besides her.  He was crying.  "What's wrong?  Are you okay?"  She reached up to wipe a tear away.  He didn't look sad.  They were tears of joy.  She looked around but found very little to give her further bearings on the situation.  The clearing they sat in was now augmented by ten.  She gasped at the destruction.  Trees had been reduced to splinters.  Everything was scorched.  There was one particularly nasty looking pile of ash a few feet away.  It looked vaguely reminiscent of a book.  "Is it over then?" she whispered.

Harry slipped an arm around her and drew her close.  "It's over," he whispered.  She let him stroke her hair for a few seconds.  It felt good.  More than anything else, it let her know that Harry forgave her, though she probably didn't deserve it.

She felt a sob rise in her throat.  "I don't understand...  How?"

"June destroyed it."

"I can see that much."

"But she used her Volari powers."

"Oh.  But-"

"The Volari powers aren't as specific as human powers – they can destroy much greater things, but at a greater cost.  They destroy everything, not just...."

Eliza pulled away.  "Then...how come we didn't die?"

He smiled sheepishly.  "We did."  She gaped at him.  "Come on, you're talking to the Boy Who Lived.  Do you really think a simple Killing Curse will finish me off?"

"But...  So she focused on a killing curse?"

"Yes.  When a Volari uses a human spell, it magnifies the spell.  You can see everything around us has been killed."

"Poor forest," a mournful voice said behind them.  "What did it ever do to me?"

Eliza turned to see June lying on the ground, a broken twig beside her.  Blood was running from her eyes and nose.  Her face was starch white.  "June!  Are you okay?"

"She'll be fine."

Eliza sighed.  "Okay, so explain this to me again.  June effectively killed all manner of life within a..."  She assessed the damage.  "Fifty yard radius, yet we are all still alive despite our being well within the circle of destruction.  Explain!"

"I can survive the Killing Curse.  June focused on that one because she hoped it was true that I could.  She was right."

"But how?"  Surviving the Killing curse was unthinkable.  She had always known that Harry had done so at one years of age, but had never thought about it concretely.  She supposed everyone secretly thought something had gone wrong with the casting of the curse.

"I'm good at portals, remember?  When I was one years old I was killed, but I opened a portal back into my body."

"How?"

"Very painfully.  And bloodily.  I have to open a portal from dreamtime into the physical realm.  The point of contact was right...here."  He pointed to his forehead.  She was surprised to see that it was bleeding.

"Your scar!"

"Yes.  This was where I used a portal then, and I used the same one today."

"So Voldemort can sit around and kill you all day and you won't be harmed!"

He frowned.  "I don't know what the long term effects would be.  No one's ever done this before.  Remember, I opened a double portal in dreamtime, and no one's ever done that before either.  But I suspect the consequences of doing it too much would be dire."

"Why?"

"Because once you open a portal, it never completely closes."

"So?"

"So you don't want there to be rips in the fabric of the universe!" Harry shouted.  "I may have caused more trouble than my life is worth!  It leaves a small tear.  A trace.  Like my scar."

She looked at his scar with new awe.  "So you did the same for me?"

He shook his head.  "I wish I had, but I don't know how to.  I don't even know if I could."  He sighed.  "This is hard to explain.  Okay, I guess I'll start at the beginning.  There's a certain power within you, a kind of life force, an energy that sustains your life, okay?"

"Okay..."

"And when you die, it disappears.  It completely disappears, no hope of ever regaining it.  This happened to you.  But..._if_ more of this energy were to be found, it could be transferred into you.  Kind of like when one person gives up their own life so another can live."

"So you somehow found a way to find this energy.  How?"

"We took it from another life form."  He exchanged uneasy glances with June.  "It might affect your powers strangely, and you might be something more than human now, but you're still alive."

She narrowed her eyes suspiciously.  "What life form?"

"You have to understand-"

"What life form?"  He shrugged and pointed to the broken stick beside June.  "A twig?  You took life from a tree?"  She was even more confused now.

"No.  That's June's wand."  She looked closer to find he was right.  "It was alive."

"Excuse me?"

"I mean exactly that – it was alive in the sense that it had that energy that keeps everyone else alive.  Unfortunately, this was a problem.  It didn't want to be alive, but there is no way to kill something that's not fully alive."

"I think that's why it took to me so completely," June jumped in.  "I've always been a bit...suicidal.  So I understood when it finally managed to communicate to me that it wanted to die."

"To die?"  The very thought was abhorrent to her.  It was against the nature of living things to seek death.

"It didn't want to live a half-life like it was.  I've been searching for a way to destroy it for months now.  I finally thought of a way it might work, but I never had the exact right moment to test it."  June shuddered.  "It's not a moment you hope for."

"What moment?"  It was infuriating that she had to keep on prodding them for answers.  But if she didn't they would wander off and forget to explain anything to her.

"There is a precise moment when all the lifeforce has been expended from your body, yet your soul still remains in it.  It's only a fraction of an instant.  I basically siphoned off the energy in the wand and gave it to you before your...soul, if that's what you want to call it, dissipated.  Harry helped me open a portal into you, kind of like Neville would when he heals people.  That's why Harry meant he wouldn't be able to save you on his own – he wouldn't have been able to give you the energy that the wand did."

"This is absolutely crazy!  You killed a living wand to give my body energy to hold on to my soul?"

"Correct."

"Bloody fascinating.  But excuse me if I find myself more interested in wondering when the next time I can eat a decent meal is."

June laughed.  "Yes, I expect it's been a while since any of us had a decent meal.  We'd better head back.  Everyone must be really stressed out."

"Stressed out?" Eliza repeated.  "June, you have a talent for understatements.  The Savior of the wizarding world has just been whisked away and possessed by a book full of dark magic, and you worry that people will be _stressed?"_

"How do we get back?" Harry asked.  He looked up at the darkening sky.  "It's a new moon tonight.  It'll be pitch black soon."

June struggled to sit up.  "You two take Harry's broom, and I'll fly."

Harry made a face.  "My broom is now a pile of ash somewhere within all this."  June looked apologetic.  "And you're too weak to attempt to fly.  And all of us are too weak to walk the distance."

"We could send up a distress signal," June suggested.  

"We're too far away from Hogwarts," Harry said.  "Besides, we couldn't risk having the wrong sort seeing it."

June pouted.  "I hadn't even thought of that.  Good grief!"

"We could use a portkey," Eliza said.

Harry's eyebrows shot up.  "A portkey?"

"Sure.  It's a simple enough charm."

Harry continued to gape at her.  "If you're a child genius."

She squirmed, uncomfortable with his obvious admiration.  "Well, I know how to do it.  I'm fairly certain.  That is, I've read about them."  Her voice faltered.  "No, it's a stupid idea.  Neither of you like it."

"No, it's excellent," June said immediately.  "But...can you really make one?  I don't think I would be able to."

"I think I could."

"Then why don't you have a go?" Harry suggested.  "You haven't gotten anything to lose.  I don't doubt you could make one, anyway."

She was cheered by his confidence in her abilities.  She slipped off a shoe and after a few moments of gathering her thoughts, performed the charm.  "It should work," she said.  "Hopefully it will bring us back to the library of Hogwarts."

"Why the library?" June asked.

Eliza blushed.  "Because that's the place in Hogwarts that I can visualize with the greatest accuracy."  June smirked.  "Don't even pretend you're not as much a bookworm as I am June.  But if anything, by this whole fiasco, I guess I've proved myself to be an even greater one."

June was still smiling when she answered, "That you have."  Both June and Harry were repressing laughter.

"It's a shame, really," Eliza said, looking wistfully over her shoulder.

"What is?" Harry asked, his face sobering up.

"The waste.  I mean, now we have to reorder that book."

The other two stared at her.  "I'm not even going to think about what Ron would respond to that," Harry said.  They placed their hands on the shoe as one and felt the familiar jerk on their navel.  Less than a second later, the clearing was empty.

*          *          *          *          *          *          *          *          *          *          *          *

[A/N: I'm so evil!  Hee, hee, I love myself.  Is it a sin to laugh with glee every time you kill a character?  I'm almost Slytherin I'm so cruel!  (Thus speaketh the Ravenclaw)

My longest chapter yet, at 6000 words – give it up for long-windedness!]


	51. Persons

[A/N: I apologize for the month-long wait.  I was at home during Christmas break, where my mom stayed on the computer all night and my dad stayed on all day, and there was no 24-hour computer lab within walking distance like there is at school.  Rejoice, for I will continue for now my normal schedule of updating at least one of my fanfics weekly – usually every weekend – and I might actually finish the darn thing sometime this next decade.  Thanks to everyone who's still reading!]

52. Persons

Neville squinted his eyes to see through the dim morning light.  The company had made only one small fire when they stopped the night before, but the smell of burning wood still overpowered the thin gruel that was his breakfast.  He was sure he would be unrecognizable when he returned to Hogwarts, after days of long hikes and small meals.  Only June would see him as unchanged.  He could probably dye his hair blond and it would take her days to notice.  In fact, she used to think that his hair _was_ blond.  She had remarked during a run with her, Llian, and Harry that Neville was the only person who wasn't a brunette.  Llian had enjoyed tormenting her over that one: "His hair is light brown, not _blond, you idiot!"_

He discretely ran a hand over the top of his thighs, which had once been massive, but were now simply big.  Would June be impressed with him?  Would she be proud of him if he were handsome?  She had said before that she didn't like "pretty boys" – it was supposed to make him feel better after he made a disparaging remark about his looks, but it only assured him that he was correct.  Even Goyle was probably better looking than him.  

He tightened his fists in determination, letting his nails bite into his hand.  He enjoyed the sharp pain.  But he was a lot of things that Goyle was not, his presence on this trip was proof enough of that.  Besides, he'd rather be the odd one out, alone and friendless, than have to follow Malfoy around all day like an unpleasant odor.  Or would he?

A snort behind him made him jump.  He twisted his head around to find Meg asleep on the ground, her arms outstretched and head propped up on a log.  She had shared watch last night with Lupin.  Her mouth was slightly open as she slept.  

He was beginning, with greater and greater awareness, to assess the group's defenses.  The company was compact – it was designed to maximize speed.  They be able to evade "the enemy" easier with only eighteen people altogether (including himself and Llian), but if they came into a confrontation head-on they would be pulverized.  There were only...how many Aurors?  

There was the gloomy Meg, and short dark Jordan.  There was Augustus, a tall, beefy, older man who looked like he could (and already had) survive anything; and blond, tidy Terryn, who put on make-up every morning before getting her fingernails and freshly rinsed hair full of muck.  There was also Quentin, a lanky fellow in his mid-thirties with hair so red it appeared to be on fire.  He was Arthur Weasley's nephew, and was fiercely dedicated to the former Minister.  Neville wasn't sure whether to include the retired Moody as an Auror, but figured he was still fit enough to be considered one.

That was only six people trained specifically to take down Dark wizards.  There were also the two Mercenaries, Aleta and Graff.  Aleta was an assassin, quick and dangerous, who would surely be useful in a fight, but Graff (he had learned more from what had been omitted from conversations than what had been said) was something more akin to a spy.  Neville wasn't sure why, but he never trusted Graff – the man seemed to always be watching him.  When he talked with Neville, he stood too closely and kept eye contact too long.  Graff seemed to be the closest person to Aleta; yet they had more animosity between them than any of the others did.  He supposed that although their personal differences were numerous, they understood each other the best.

Lupin and Jonathan, the trackers and guides, would probably be able to help in a fight, but Viola and Cyrix, the healers, probably would not.  As for Carol Berg, she was primarily a Volari and Veela researcher and probably the least in shape.  

The worth of the rest of the group in a fight was doubtful.  The two Seers, Edan and Gwen, might not have any great power apart from their ability to open portals.  Gwendolyn was a middle-aged woman of average height and build, with mousy brown hair and dark eyes.  He thought cruelly that her best ability in a conflict would likely be to blend into a crowd.  And Edan was so small and frail that it looked like a gust of wind could topple him over.  

There was also Benford, an old balding man with a trim white beard and spectacles.  Neither Neville nor Llian could figure out exactly what Benford's function in the group was, although their wild guesses were often scandalous and preposterous.  Benford was full of wild tales and dry laughter, but Neville was sure he was too old to be able to defend himself.  

How could the small group trained in fighting defend themselves against an attack, much less the rest of the group that depended on them?  There was, of course, Llian and himself, but he didn't delude himself into thinking that either of them would be much help in a fight.  He was probably more liable to drop his wand in fright than actually hex anyone.  Besides, he was practically a Squib.  In fact, he realized as a frown played across his forehead, the only thing he probably _could do would be to run away._

Run away.

He never ceased to be amazed that he was in Gryffindor.  He had pleaded with the hat long and hard to win the chance to be in the same house as his father.  He had asked Dumbledore once, much later, if that meant his placement was wrong.  But the Headmaster was been adamant in insisting that person's choices and actions had just as much, if not more, influence on who they were than their abilities.  He smirked sadly to think about it: if the hat had chosen just by his abilities he would likely have been kicked out of Hogwarts for his ineptitude.

He couldn't push away the painful memories of how badly he had done at everything his entire life.  He remembered remarking countless times that he was no better than a Squib after failing some potion or charm during class, and having to wait while heart beat painfully in his chest with the wish that someone, _anyone, would contradict him.  But they never did._

"I think I'm a better person now than when I first met you," he said suddenly to Llian.  It was light enough now to see the leaves sticking to Llian's hair.  

"You think so?" Llian asked absently, his attention fixed on Edan, who was eating breakfast by himself a couple yards away.

Neville had always had the gift, or curse, of not knowing when no one cared about what he was saying (which was quite frequently).  He continued his train of thought.  "Yes, definitely.  I have more friends because of you two, and I'm not such a fat slob anymore.  Maybe some of your powers rubbed off on me too, because I'm doing better in all my classes, even Potions.  I'm not just 'the fat kid' – people actually know my name now.  I'm a person now, not just the kid that everyone laughs at because he can't do everything right.  I look better and feel better.  I think my magic's even stronger.  Does that make you a better person?"

He had Llian's full attention now, but it wasn't as he expected it.  Llian seemed furious.  "You don't measure a person's worth by their weight or their grades.  You always were a fantastic person, you just didn't believe in yourself.  You don't _have_ to discover secret powers or loose fifty pounds or anything stupid to be taken seriously.  That's just crap!  You haven't mysteriously grown more magic.  Your magic's been there for the taken.  It wasn't until you gained confidence in yourself that you did better in classes.  You stopped giving up so easily and you started telling yourself that you _could_ do things, and then you did then.

"Your learning to fly decently wasn't a miracle – it was hard work, endless practice, and learning not to be so scared of your broom that you fell off it.  Do you really think only smart, completely capable wizards are worthy of being 'real people'?  If you still haven't learning all this along with all the confidence you gained, then you haven't learned jack shit."  He thought Llian was going to storm away, but instead he stayed seated, staring down Neville.  

He stared back defiantly.  "You have no right to talk to me that way!  What do you know about anything?  You were never a nobody, a fat, ugly, Squib!  I'd rather be Goyle than go back to the way I was!"  The last statement slipped out accidentally.

Llian was enraged.  He punched Neville hard on the arm.  "Don't say that, you stupid pig."  Pig! Neville thought angrily.  So he had started on the fat jokes already.  "I only meant that who you are is more important that what you can do."

He snarled at Llian, showing his large, white teeth.  Before he stopped to think, he punched Llian back in his stomach.  "What does it matter who I am if I can't anything worth crap?  What good am I being against Voldemort if I can't help anybody?  Better that they would have killed me than hurt my parents!"

In a second Llian was on top of Neville, swinging his fists with each word he shouted.  "Don't. You. Ever. Say. That!  Your. Parents. Would. Be Ashamed. Of. You!"  Neville kicked his legs and punched blindly back at him.

"Boys!" a voice raged.  Several of the group members pulled them apart.  Quentin and Meg, who had been woken from the shouting, pulled Llian off of Neville.  Lupin and Jonathan prevented Neville from tearing off after Llian.  Llian immediately calmed down so he didn't accidentally hurt anyone, but Neville continued to struggle, inadvertently punching Jonathan in the nose.

A very angry and creepy-looking Moody was between them.  Neville stopped.  "What the blazes do you two think you're doing going on like that?  This isn't a vacation for squabbling school boys!  If I catch either one of you acting like a wizard who hasn't even gotten his wand yet, I'll send you right back to Hogwarts, with or without Dumbledore's approval.  I won't allow you to jeopardize this mission."  He looked back and forth between them with his good eye, but his magical one remained fixed on Neville.  "Am I understood?"  They nodded, eyes downcast in shame and repressed anger.

Llian grabbed his pack and stalked away to sit next to Benford, who was full of odd stories.  Lupin gave Neville a small shrug of apology and went after Llian.  Neville finally noticed that a small trickle of blood was flowing out of Jonathan's left nostril, and apologized profusely.

"It's okay," Jonathan assured him as Viola came over to heal his nose with a quick charm.  "I think you hurt your friend more than you hurt me."  With a knowing glance both he and Viola left Neville alone with Moody.

"Anything you need to say to me, boy?" Moody demanded.  Neville stared at him dumbfoundedly for a second.  Looking almost embarrassed, the ex-Auror continued, "You know where to find me if you need me," and clumped away.

He stared after him.  Had Moody really just offered to talk with him?  He had always dreamed of someone to be a father to him, someone to play Quidditch with over the holidays, someone to talk to about things he could never tell Gran or Uncle Algie.  He was tempted to follow Moody and tell him everything, even the stupid things that the man wouldn't care about, like how he worried incessantly that he was really a Squib.  But he could see from the corner of his eye was Graff was watching him, so he sat down and instead finished his tasteless gruel.

'I'm fat already,' he told himself bitterly, 'so I can eat as much as I want.'  Even June wouldn't be able to have a good answer for that.

*          *          *          *          *          *          *          *          *          *          *          *          *          *          *          *            *          *          *          *

Eliza jogged in circle around an ant hill while June retied her right shoe.  "Someone's thinking about me," June said when she jumped back up.  Both girls continued down the running path – the Official, Warded running path which Dumbledore, with Snape's plentiful assistance, had been gracious enough to provide.  Of course, that was after endless badgering and complaints about running endlessly around the Quidditch fields since the forest was "unsafe" for them to run in.  At times, when Dark activity was at its worst, they had even had workouts in the Game Room.  "If your left shoe unties someone's gossiping about you, but for the right some one's thinking about you.  Isn't that how it goes?"

"Why don't you just tie your laces tighter, and then you don't have to worry about either?" Eliza answered.

"Who do you think was thinking about me?  Papa?"

"Probably Neville.  Just hope it wasn't Voldemort."

June let out a loud laugh.  "You have a sick sense of humor, but I likes it!  I wonder what he does think about, though.  I mean, does he sit there all day and plan his killing?  Does he ever think about how crazy he is?  Does he ever get an idea and laugh with glee because he's wondering how everyone's going to think he's insane?"  Eliza was ignoring her, so she tried again.  "Does he ever burp or scratch his balls?"

"June!"

"Well, he's still human, isn't he?  Mostly, all that Dark immortal stuff aside.  I mean, if you cut him, he'd probably bleed.  It's not like he's a god, he's just a man.  He probably used to wonder what he was going to be when he growed up-"

"Grew up."

"Growed – oh, sorry, grew up.  He's probably at some point in his life played with toys and watched football on the telly."

"_Please_ do not tell me that next you're going to say he has feelings."

"Sure he does.  Stop that!"  Eliza had reached out her arms in a mock-attempt to strangle her.  "It's just a rather limited range.  But he has emotions: happiness, anger, frustration, desire, gas-"

"Gas is not an emotion, sweetheart."

"Gas is like love.  It's painful, but everybody experiences it sooner or later."

"This conversation is rapidly deteriorating."

"Voldemort has emotions, he just lacks some more essential ones, like compassion and remorse.  And he's a crazy bastard."

"You put it so well.  If only everyone could see everything from your point of view," Eliza said sarcastically as she shuddered in horror.  "I don't think you understand, June.  He's corrupted himself so thoroughly that he _isn't human anymore.  There should be some kind of definition of being a person, and I personally don't think he fits it.  Morally, and physically, I don't believe he's human."_

"But don't you think he was born human?  I mean, he's not an alien.  Do you really think he was evil as a fetus?"

"Fetuses can't be evil."

June thought about it and grinned.  "Why not?"

"Excuse me?"

"Why can't a fetus be evil?  We can't see what they're thinking.  Can't a fetus be evil from conception, or maybe even before, like Stewie from The Family Guy?  I think you're wrong – fetuses can be evil."

Eliza rolled her eyes.  "Oh, Merlin, I told you not to read so much Ray Bradbury!"

"You'd better watch out next time you see a pregnant woman.  There might be an evil fetus inside – waiting, planning, watching."

"Jeez, I _would_ be running alone in the middle of the woods with a deranged psycho."

June made a face and spontaneously made up a haiku.

"In its dark cave this

Evil fetus sits alone

Planning destruction."

She turned to Eliza, "Do you like it?"

Eliza shook her head as she rolled her shoulder, which was cramping up.  June almost tripped on a root, but grabbed her friend's arm for support.  She decided to temporarily attend to the ground beneath her for further obstructions than talk.  After passing a particularly rough clump of roots, Eliza commented, "My toes are numb."

"Really?  Maybe your circulation is going whacked.  You want me to step on them?"

"No."

"It might help."

"That's okay."

"Are you sure?  Really?  Because I can if you want.  I'd do anything for a friend.  You sure it wouldn't help?"

"I'll be fine, thanks."

"Then can you step on mine?"

"Look, sickoo, I'm not going to help cater to your masochistic tendencies."

"You _are_ running with me."

"Um, point taken."

They came to a small stream.  June jumped across with a large whoop, sinking her heel in mud where she landed on the other side.  Eliza walked across the log placed there to use as bridge.  

"Wimp," June taunted.  Eliza merely looked from her clean shoes to June's wet, muddy ones.  June had a knack for finding the roughest, wettest spots.  Whenever they hit a muddy part of the trail, Eliza ran behind June and was careful to step anywhere but where June did.  "I like you," June said suddenly.  "Not like _that," she quickly amended.  "But I still like you."_

"I hate you," Eliza automatically responded, grinning.

"I think you smell bad.  But can I tell you a secret?  I wish Llian would date you instead of Cho."  Eliza's heart flip-flopped.  "It's not that I don't _like Cho, it's just...we don't get on as well as you and me.  You're a lot like her, only better."_

"I think the more important issue would be who _Llian gets along with...best."_

"Nice way to avoid ending a sentence with 'with.'"

"Thanks."

"That is true, but...  Well, like how you're just as smart as she is, without being pretentious."

"Wow, you used a big word.  Is that your new word for the day?"

"It is.  I heard Madame Pince use it, so I looked it up in the dictionary."

"Did you?"  Eliza rolled her eyes – an action she was often prompted to do while in June's company.  "Cho isn't pretentious.  She's just a different type of person than I am."

"That's it!  She's a different person.  Maybe I don't like Cho just because she's so popular.  She reminds me of some of the cheerleaders from my old junior high.  Icky Muggle cheerleaders."

"Thanks a lot for the compliment."

"Uh, you're welcome."

"I was being sarcastic."

"Oh."

"I was thanking you for calling me unpopular."

"But..."  June blushed.  "I meant you...I didn't mean it that way!  I meant to say how you..."

"Just stop."

"No, listen, I meant to say that-"

"Please don't even try, June, you'll just make it worse."

"Sorry."

Eliza couldn't help smiling.  "You're really stupid sometimes, you know that?"

June grinned proudly.  "It's a Gryffindor thing.  You wouldn't understand."

"Spare me."

"But really, about Cho.  We just irk each other.  It's like fingernail on a chalk board, or peppermint in a concotion of nightshade and mandrake.  Everything we do annoys each other.  She's so...graceful and...I don't know, I'm just more blunt and rude.  I don't know what I'm saying.  She paints her nails _pink for goodness sakes!"_

"And pink is obviously an evil color.  Fear the Dark Lord that wears pink."

June started giggling.  "Can you imagine Voldemort painting his toenails pink?"

"How in the world do these strange images come into your minds?"

"Minds?  You mean I have more than one?  Geez, you think and say the weirdest things when you're running.  Maybe we should both be on speaking probation until we're done running."

"You _always_ think strange things."

"Speaking of pink...I mean, strange things.  How are you doing...with everything?  Is the book completely gone?"

Eliza sighed.  "I'm fine.  Sometimes there are tinges, but I think it's just me, my own fears and anxieties.  It's hard.  Ginny's been a big help to Harry and me.  She knows what it's like to be possessed, afterall."  She shuddered.

"Ginny?  Haven't you been spending a lot of time with Harry, though?"

Eliza paused.  "Ginny kind of broke-up with him.  She's dating a sixth year now.  They're still friends, but Harry just...needs to talk sometimes."

June had a dozen questions to ask, most of them rude and pointedly lewd, but she waited for Eliza to offer more.  She knew it would be useless to get anything out of her, but she tried anyway.  "Why did they break up?"

"It's a long story.  It's complicated."

"You can tell me."

"Ginny...Ginny's a good person."

June narrowed her eyes.  Where the heck was _this_ leading?  "Yes, she is."

"But she – it doesn't matter."

"What doesn't matter?"

"Nothing."

"What?  What doesn't matter?"

"Nothing!"

"Okay, okay.  Stupid Hufflepuffs."

"Goddamn Gryffindors."

"Eliza, you cursed!"

"I've heard you say worse quite frequently," Eliza mocked.  "Oh, my virgin ears!" 

"Actually.." June started.

"What?"

"Nevermind."

"Hmmm.  Is six miles enough?"  They were nearing the end of their second loop around the three mile trail.  The castle loomed impregnable before them.

"Are you still breathing?" June asked.

"Barely."

"Then let's go around one more time."

"Oh, no – I know that trick!  One more time, and at the end of the next loop it will be one more time.  I thought your knee was hurting you again."

"It'll be fine."

"Look, you idiot!  If your knee's hurting just stop running."

"It'll be fine."

"I'm not going to run anymore, you crazy."  They were now passing under Hogwart's immense shadow.  Eliza stopped her watch and slowed to a walk.

"But then I'll run more than you!" June shouted over her shoulder as she ran on.

"So what?" she shouted back.  What did she care if June killed herself running more?  Maybe her kneecap would fall off once and for all.  So what if June beat her?  

"Damn," Eliza cursed as she restarted her stopwatch and took off after June.  

Who ever said she couldn't run as much as a stupid Gryffindor?

*          *          *          *          *          *          *          *          *          *          *          *          *          *          *          *            *          *          *          *

"Wormtail," he said slowly.

The man rocked back and forth, his head buried between his legs.  He clutched the grass beside his head frantically.  He didn't dare answer his master's summons.

"What an imbecile you are," the Dark Lord purred, his voice amused.  "I fail to find words to adequately express my disgust."

Peter looked up fearfully.  "You're not angry my Lord, only disgusted?"  Had the Dark Lord finally gone completely and irrevocably crazy?  How he longed for that day when his soul would once more be free.

"It was such an easy plan, was it not?  No gratuitous nonsense, nothing more necessary than a book.  Had Potter gotten his hands on the book, he would have been able to do so much more than that ridiculous Hufflepuff girl.  Trying to poison the school when she hadn't even had the Poisons section in Potions yet.  Potter would have succeeded where she failed, if not at that, than at other things.  Had Potter gotten to the book first, this effort would already be over.  Where would that put us?  The entirety of Hogwarts demolished, Harry Potter respectively under my power, and that other witch, the Snape girl, would also still be missing a soul.  My spies in dreamtime have told me at least that much.  It is a good thing that I'm a patient man."  Peter shuddered.  Patient his ass.  "So tell me, Wormtail, how exactly would you like to see me express my rage?  Would you like me to torture you?  Slice you open like the _fish that you are!"  He kicked Wormtail in the ribs.  "The Cruciatus, perhaps?  Would you like to scream in delightful pain?"_

Peter whimpered.  He hoped his death would be quick.  In death he would be reunited with his lost friends.  In death, perhaps there would be some hope of redemption.  Maybe there was a Purgatory of sorts, a place he found he would welcome with open arms.  He had tried to explain to Sirius and Remus two years ago how Voldemort had taken power over him, but his soul was still tethered to the beast, and it had come out as little more than incessant whimpering.  Even then the Dark Lord commanded what he could and could not say.

"I know an even better solution, Wormtail.  You are no longer necessary, as I said.  You are a hindrance.  The best punishment would be to get rid of you."

He grabbed Wormtail by his hair and pulled him up until the man's grimy, sweaty face was inches from his slitted eyes.  "I release you."  Wormtail's mouth opened.  "I will release you, give you the freedom to tell the world what has been done to you.  It's what you've always wanted, isn't it?  Remember?"

How well he remembered.  Peter, then a naïve schoolboy, had been bound eternally to the Dark Lord with ample Dark magic that gave him the shudders almost twenty years later.  How he had struggled, denouncing the Dark Lord over and over.  But Voldemort had been too powerful and the Dark magic had taken his soul.  If only he hadn't been captured by Death Eaters!  How different all of their lives would be.  

"Your friends, what's left of them, will know the truth!  You will be the suffering hero, the poor soul who has been redeemed!  All you have to do is let me possess you and see all that they reveal to you."

"Whu, what?"

"I will use your eyes.  You will tell them everything but this last part.  I will be inside you, sitting quietly.  Dumbledore is a fool.  He will put you on a shelf in his office like he does that fool Snape – he collects men on their second chance, does he not?  Does this please you, Wormtail?  Your friends will know the truth.  Harry, the sweet little boy you picture as your own son – the boy you dream about."

Peter twitched violently.  How did he know?

"Of course I know, you rat!  I see everything you dream.  I've seen your ridiculous fantasies, holding him in your lap and reading to him as a little boy, playing Quidditch with him, pretending that you can be the father you caused him to loose.  You can have him."

Peter knew, of course, that the Dark Lord would give him no such thing.  The Dark Lord enjoyed tormenting him, because he knew it would hurt him more than a thousand swords and hexes.  

"Will you allow me to posses you willingly?" he hissed.

"No."

The Dark Lord smiled.  Wormtail still provided him with amusement.  "I was glad you said that.  It will make your submission in the end so much sweeter."

*          *          *          *          *          *          *          *          *          *          *          *          *          *          *          *            *          *          *          *

Peter stumbled up the hill beyond the gates of Hogwarts.  He was bleeding profusely from his hip, shoulder, and chest, but he didn't notice the pain.  He was free!

His lifted up his mangled arms and laughed.  It was a wonderful, wonderful feeling, like being reborn.  No, being born the first time, surrounded by a world of marvelous light and love.  He didn't understand it, but he was beyond caring.  All that mattered was that he would see the friends that he once vowed he would die for.

More importantly, he would see Harry again.  Harry.  The bittersweet boy he had watched all those years, sneaking peeks at him from Ron's pocket.  Climbing into his bed at night to watch him sleep softly.  Marveling that he was so like James, his superb Quidditch abilities and Maurader-like antics.  Marveling that he was so unlike James in that he was very much alive.

The first thing he would do was hug Harry, he decided.  Once he had told them his story and was accepted.  It would take a while, he knew.  First there would be suspicion, and then anger, then dread, then denial.  Eventually they would shed tears with him at the circumstances that had torn their small world apart, and then it wouldn't matter anymore because they'd have each other.  His soul was no longer bound to Voldemort's.  All his seemingly fruitless struggles had come to this.  Oh, but life was grand!

Peter felt, for the first time in twenty years, that he was truly, truly alive.

He had planned on going straight through Hogwart's doorway, where Dumbledore would magically know he had arrived (the man always did if one came through the entrance hall – he supposed there were wards in there connected directly to the Headmaster).  Unfortunately, he came across someone else before he could.  There, on the front steps to Hogwarts, was something that made his heart leap and his cracked lips smile.  "Harry!" he called out.  He fell to his knees, sobbing.  "Harry!  Harry!  It's all over.  It's over.  He's released me."  He was overcome with love for everything – for Harry, for Padfoot who sat in dog form beside Harry on the stairs before Hogwart's entrance, for the whole world.  "Oh, thank you, thank you, thank you Merlin!  I'm free!"  He wiped tears from his eyes to see Padfoot advancing slowly on him, his eyes full of murderous intent.  He wasn't even going to change, Peter realized suddenly.  He was going to rip out Peter's throat in his animagus shape.

"No!  Sirius, please!  Let me explain – it's not what you think!  Please, oh Merlin, just listen.  Look, I'm unarmed.  There's nothing I can do to harm you.  Send Harry for Dumbledore and you can lock me up, poison me, torture me, but for God's sake at least listen to me first. What can you have to loose?"

But Padfoot continued to growl and crouch close to the ground in preparation to spring.  

"No!" a harsh voice shouted out.  Harry!

Harry stepped forward, his eyes emotionless.  Peter couldn't read what the boy was thinking, but he felt tears spill from his eyes again at the love that gripped his heart like a barracuda.  The boy was so powerful, so magnificent and beautiful standing there that Padfoot immediately dropped back.  Harry walked down the steps until he was directly in front of Peter.

"Oh, Harry, I knew you'd listen.  I knew you'd understand.  You're just like your father. I told you that once before, remember?  Well, I meant it.  James was my very best friend, all of them were – they were the only friends I've ever had.  They were the only people who actually accepted me as a person.  They knew there was more to being a person than just being good at Quidditch, or being handsome, or smart.  Oh, I can't even tell you everything."  Still on his hands and knees, he hung his head upside down and pressed his grinning face into the brick path beneath him.

He looked up, smiling so widely he thought his face might crack open.  Harry still had not moved.  Of course, the boy hadn't heard it all yet.  It would take a while, but they would all come around.  Noble Harry had saved him once again from death.  Peter would repay the young man the rest of his life.  He would live for Harry Potter.  He would live to destroy the Dark Lord.  They would destroy him together.

"Harry?" he whispered.  "You would really save me after everything I've done to you?"

But Harry's arm was already in motion, lifting his wand.  Smart boy, Peter thought.  He'll stun me and then they'll wait until they have Dumbledore to interrogate me.  He was extremely glad Harry thought of that.

He was still smiling, his heart grinding to pieces, when Harry uttered the killing curse.  Peter fell to the ground.  A wry smile remained on his face, as if it were a memory of better days.

*          *          *          *          *          *          *          *          *          *          *          *          *          *          *          *            *          *          *          *

[A/N: Oh, come on – you didn't _really expect any happy endings from __me did you?  The good news is that Harry can't get in trouble with the Ministry – afterall, Peter Pettigrew is already officially dead.  You can't kill a dead man!_

Oh, jeez, please don't flame me completely for being a depressed lunatic who stole someone else's characters so she could dress them up in sober blues and grays.  

Btw, I've started on the epilogue to Dreamtime.  Any votes for whether to publish it now or wait?  It involves only Neville and doesn't give away any details to the end of Dreamtime, save for a few people that obviously would have to live through the end of the story to make it all the way to the epilogue.  What say you?]


	52. Portal

[A/N: Due to extreme workload in my classes this semester, I can't promise any more than an update every other week.  I'm only putting aside one night a week to write, so if I when I finish I'll post the next chapter.  Sorry for making you wait, please don't eat me!  If you do, I'll put you in my story and make you fall off a cliff!  Actually I might do that anyway, it's quite fun.]

52. Portal

Llian watched Neville out the corner of his eye.  His friend was walking silently next to Aleta.  They had been ignoring each other for only a few hours, but it felt like days.  Llian had purposely walked close to Edan all that morning.  Edan didn't seem to mind.  Lupin, who had been a good friend to him, had tried to talk with him several times, but Llian skirted around the issue of Neville. 

They had been climbing down into the valley all morning, spending almost as much time chasing articles of clothing scattered by the wind as walking.  Edan alone seemed to enjoy the wind.  His eyes sparkled with delight every time the wind ran its fingers through his hair.  Llian thought that wind must be his element – he drew strength from it the same way June attached to rocks.  Edan stopped once in the middle of the trail and spread his arms wide, his laughing a light tingle that made Llian shiver.  The branches around them shrieked and cracked.  Llian smiled, watching Edan.  Their eyes met for a second and Llian was filled with a churning sensation in the pit of his stomach.  He leaned over and kissed Edan quickly, and then backed away afraid.  He was relieved to find that the Seer was beaming at him.  Edan reached out and squeezed his hand before continuing down the path.  When Llian followed, he found himself so light he thought the wind could probably blow him away over the trees and into the clouds.

If anyone noticed the quick kisses or small touches Edan and he gave each other, they didn't say anything about it, at least not so he could hear.  Neville hadn't said anything either.  He wondered what would happen when he went back to Hogwarts, to Cho and June and Papa.  Would Edan still be interest in him when they were back in their own sperate lives?  For all Llian knew, Edan might already have a significant other.  Their relationship was markedly different from Cho's – they never talked about themselves, never asked questions.  They accepted each other as they were.  Everything else was merely dust in their eyes.  Llian rarely talked about himself at all, except to confess worry, which Edan had quickly smothered.  He was more comfortable with being physically intimate with Edan than he would ever dare be with Cho.  They would lie silently in each other's arms after everyone else was asleep, doing nothing more than enjoying the warmth of the other's body.  He wondered if what he was feeling was real love or merely lust – or perhaps a bit of both.  But gazing into Edan's violet eyes, he found he didn't really care.

He wondered if Edan was nervous or even Gwen for that matter.  Neither one of them showed it if they were.  Their faces both eluded a depth of calm that Llian had only seen on other people when they were in a trance.  Today was the big day when they would use a portal to travel thousands of miles to the Southern Hemisphere.  A powerful node was at the top of a hill in the middle of this windy valley.  Edan would open the initial gate, and Gwen would go through and hold it from the other end.  They were both capable of opening a portal on their own, but it would be less tiring for them to share the load.

Llian, for some reason, had been apprehensive about going through the portal.  He had brought up his anxiety last night, when most of the company was dozing or deep in conversation in the darkness.  "Don't you trust me?" Edan had asked, his face open and honest, when Llian had confessed his irrational fear.

"Of course I do," he had answered.  "It's not you...it's the portal itself..."  It was the fear of the unknown, the alien and strange.  He would rather the familiar and comfortable.  Flying hundreds of feet in the air on a broom seemed safer than this.  He was as brave as the next man, but truthful enough to admit when he was uncertain.

"The portal is me," Edan said.  Llian opened his mouth, then shut it again.  "When I open it, I open it through myself, through my mind.  It's not quite as simple as opening a door that stays open until someone comes along and shuts it.  Gwen and I literally carve the portal through ourselves."

Llian had tensed at his description.  It sounded almost erotic to have Edan tell him this.  The portal was Edan, and Edan was the portal.  Therefore, he shouldn't be afraid.  "So you'll be there with me the entire time?"  Edan nodded.  "I just wish you were physically there with me so I could see you and feel you."  He grinned at Edan.  "You could hold my hand."  He laughed at himself.  Edan was still.

He was glad Edan didn't go off on a long, rambling lecture about the physics of portals, as June sometimes would.  June philosophized about things, Edan merely observed and accepted.

"Would you like to try it?" Edan asked suddenly, leaning closer towards Llian.  He reached up and ran his fingers along Llian's cheek.

He felt he would do anything in the world for Edan.  He managed to stutter, "Tr-try what?"

"Going through a portal."  At Llian's pained expression he quickly explained, "It wouldn't have to be far, just a couple of feet if you want.  Portals are practically untraceable – well, these kinds are."  Llian hesitated.  Edan had an excited gleam in his eyes.  "I'll be with you the entire time.  Just you and me.  We could be through before anybody ever knew."

Llian almost accepted.  But somewhere, in the back of his head, was Neville's admonition not to trust anybody, even people they liked.  It would be foolhardy to rush off through a portal.  Edan may well be a powerful Seer and expert at portals, but they were still tricky things, even used for simpler things like Apparating.  There were tons of substances a wizard couldn't digest before Apparating, the most well-known being Fire Whiskey.  Like Muggle driving, you had to be sharp and give it your full attention or you could crash, so to speak.

Still, there was little danger...  Llian shook his head.  "Naw," he finally answered.  "We'll be there tomorrow.  Besides, we're both tired right now."  He stretched out on the ground.

He was surprised to see disappointment in Edan's usually blank face.  Maybe Edan had just wanted the chance to be alone with him.  Llian felt excited at the thought.  He was intimidated and fascinated.  He wanted to hold on to Edan and never let go.

But they were there now, less than half an hour from the hill that Llian could see over the trees.  The very air of the valley was mavelont and powerful.  The wind continued to tear at their clothing, trying to dispel the unwanted visitors from its sanctuary.

Once they halted and dropped their packs down wearily at the foot of the hill, Edan and Gwen quickly gathered with Moody, Lupin, Jonathan, and Carol.  Carol wasn't going to tell the Seers the exact coordinates until right before they left to minimize the risk of the information finding its way to potential assailants.

Llian exchanged a glance with Neville, but neither of them made a move to approach the other.  Llian found himself angry all over again.  He was the Hufflepuff, loyal and dedicated, so it was always _his_ duty to make up after fights.  Well he was sick of it.  Why should he always be the one to give in first?  He wasn't going to be civil to Neville until his friend found a bit of the Gryffindor courage he hid deep inside himself and apologized to Llian.  He crossed his arms and looked away, leaning casually against a tree.

To get his mind off his recalcitrant friend, he looked through the group that was milling around.  Aleta, he noticed, was crouched behind a rock at the top of the hill, scanning their surroundings.  He swore that woman never rested.  She was so violent – everything about her screamed "Danger!"  He couldn't understand why Neville was so taken with her.

He had passed the two together the other day to hear Neville admit things about his past he hadn't told anyone except for June and himself.  If he hadn't known that everyone in the company had been hand-picked by Dumbledore, he would have suspected Aleta of using some kind of Dark Magic to influence his friend.

He watched as a shadow crept closer to Aleta.  She raised her wand automatically, but lowered it again when she saw it was Graff.  Llian wished he could get close enough to hear what they were saying, but it wasn't worth getting his pants cursed off to try.  They would hex him by reflex before he got within twenty-five yards of them.  At one point, Graff motioned towards the group and they both turned around and looked straight at Llian.  He felt embarrassed, as if he had walked in on some one jacking off in the bathroom, but he couldn't wrench his gaze away from theirs.  Why were they talking about him?  What were they saying?  Graff jerked his head and walked off and Aleta followed.  They moved out of Llian's line of sight to finish their conversation.

He automatically started to walk towards Neville, so they could discuss what it all meant.  Neville shared his reservations about Graff.  It would be good to have an extra head to speculate what was going on.  He was even halfway to Neville, too, before he remembered with a sudden intake of breath that they weren't speaking and Llian was on his own.  He almost continued, forgetting his vow less than a minute ago to not be the first one to back down, but at that moment Neville looked up.  He had such a hurt-puppy-dog look on his face that Llian was instantly mad again.  It was plain that he expected Llian to apologize first.  Neville was overly fond of playing the martyr, the befuddled student, the shunned child, the wronged and bewildered, and Llian couldn't stand for any more of it.  Sure, a lot of it stemmed from Neville's self-esteem issues, but he really needed to grow up.  Llian had no problem with reassuring his friend that he was really an intelligent, competent, wonderful person, but Neville couldn't go through his whole life having his hand held.  He was going to have to live in the real world someday, where people don't give a damn whether you believe in yourself or not, only whether you turn in your work on time.

Instead he purposely walked within a few feet of Neville and went over to where the Kents had their heads bent over something.  They both looked pleased to see him.

"You read our minds, Llian," Viola said.  "We were just about to go over there and get you."

Jon got straight to the point.  "Do you recognize this?" he asked, showing Llian the rough bark-like plant he held in his calloused palm.  He held his other hand to the side the buffer the wind that threatened to steal the plant from him.

Llian squinted at it.  "I've only seen drawings of it before, and one really dried out bit of a leaf that my mother stuck in her journal, but I think that's a calluna root."

Jon nodded.  "I was digging through Carol's pack to try some of her famed freeze-dried lasagna when I accidentally opened a tin that had a bunch of this in it."  He looked at the root proudly, as if it were his son.

"Carol said it's for you, but she gave us a bit to play with," Viola said.

"Where does it grow?  If I brought this back and planted it, how would I have to take care of it?  It probably needs a lot of sunlight, right?  It has the morphology of a desert plant," Jon said.

Viola pushed her husband out of the way.  "Who cares how it grows, tell us what it does, Llian.  Carol said it's like catnip for the Volari, but I think she was pulling our legs a bit.  Would you use this in some sort of antidepressant?"

"Don't you dare even think about chopping this up for a potion until I can grow more," Jon warned.

"Whoa!  Both of you hold on," Llian said, holding up his palms in surrender.  "I'll tell you everything, but please try one question at a time."

"Does it grow in the desert?" Jon asked immediately.  Llian nodded.  Jon pumped his fists in the air.  "Ha!  I knew it."

"Is it a stimulant?" Viola asked.  "It's used as a kind of drug, right?"

"It gives visions."

"It's hallucinogenic?"

"No, it gives visions.  Real visions.  My mom was convinced that they were just hallucinations that happened to be right, but they were always visions.  They're only hallucinations if you're not a Seer."

She looked bewildered.  "How'd'you know whether they're hallucinations or not?"

"It's a magical plant, so it only reacts with certain magics.  It's the combinations of magics, not the chemicals in the plant itself.  Get it?  Just like a wand helps a wizard focus because of the magical quality of a phoenix feather, not because it's a feather.  A Muggle who took the calluna wouldn't experience anything, and an ordinary witch or wizard might go into a brief trance, where they would be in a half-dream state, thus prone to some kind of 'visions.'  You could probably use this in a calming potion.  And I guess it'd be a way of telling magical peoples from Muggles."

"Excellent!"

"It's mainly used for Seers – in small doses it provides visions for those who need to prophesize on demand, if it's part of a ceremony or something."

"Ceremony?" Jon asked.

"Whenever a child is born, or a couple joins in union, or a stranger enters the village, or a friend goes away, the Volari hold a brief ceremony which usually calls for a Seeing."

Jon let out a long whistle.  "That's a lot of ceremonies."

Llian nodded.  "And they have even more than that, too – they're very grounded in tradition.  That's one of the things my mother hated about them."

"How do they figure out dosage?" Viola asked.

"If you eat it, it'll just put you to sleep.  It's impossible to overdose because you fall asleep before you even get near toxicity.  But for visions, they usually ground the leaves into a paste and rub it over the Seer's body.  The more powerful you are, the less you need because the more strongly it will affect you."

"And you're going to be taking this stuff?" Viola asked, the suspicion in her voice naked.

"Probably.  Greeting strangers, even welcoming a family would call for a ceremony anyway.  Besides, I have to prove my worth as a Haran, and that means visions.  They thrive on visions.  They're so busy looking into the future, they don't bother to do anything about the present."  He realized his voice was becoming bitter.  It was hard to be objective when he had practically memorized his mother's journals, which were biased as hell.  "They expect the Seers to take care of everything for them, and then if something goes wrong they blame them.  Simple, huh?  I'll only have to use a mediocre amount, though, since I'm a Haran and a bit of an Empath.  I don't have visions, like my sister does, but I can sometimes sense people's feelings.  When my sister hurts her knee running, I feel it too."

"I hope for both of your sakes that she doesn't hurt it too often then," Jon commented.

Llian laughed.  "Well, I didn't even know that was what I was doing until after I found out I was Haran, which was, what, a month ago?  I'd always just figured it was sympathetic pains, or that I was good at reading faces.  It's not something that's easy to put into words."  He was doing it again, telling them way more than they needed to know about his powers.  Neville had said they shouldn't tell anyone anything more than necessary.  But then again, Neville had been the one to go spurt off his entire life story at Aleta, who was the fishiest character in the group.

"You didn't answer Jon's questions," Viola accussed, "but you answered all of mine.  That's not really fair, is it?"

Llian rolled his eyes.  "Ah, these Hufflepuffs!  They think _everything in life should be fair."  Viola grinned.  "You're really going to have to ask Carol Berg if you want to know more.  I have no idea where she got this.  Her book on the Volari has a pretty length description of it if you're interested."_

"We haven't read it yet."

"You might want to, it's darned interesting."

"We really should have read it before we left," Viola said.  "But we don't been to know anything about the Volari, since we're not actually going to see them much.  Besides, it was a last minute kind of thing for us."

"What do you mean you won't actually see the Volari?" Llian asked, suddenly worried.  "Aren't you coming?"

"Of course," Viola assured him.  "We're going to go with you until we get within sight, and then a smaller group is going with you into the village.  Too many humans make them nervous, isn't that what Carol said?"  Jon nodded.  "And then to come back we'll-"

Jon put a hand on her arm.  "That's enough."

Llian felt his face grow hot.  "I don't see why you're even bringing me; obviously you can't even trust me to wipe my own butt, so how can you trust me to negotiate with the Volari?"  He glared at them, hoping they had the decency to look away and be ashamed. 

But Jon met his eye evenly.  "It's not you," he said quietly.  "The trees have ears."  He waved his hands around at the surrounding forest.

"But what about Neville and me?  What are we supposed to do it we get lost and we don't even know where we're going?  What if something horrible happens, Death Eaters attack the group or something, and we get separated?  Do we just sit and wait for someone to find us like good little boys?" he spat.

"If, in a worst case scenario, the group is attacked, you'll use your portkey to return to Hogwarts," Jon explained.

"Oh, it all makes sense now!  I'll just pick a random twig off the ground and make a portkey.  Do you know how hard it is to make one?  It's not exactly something we're taught in school."

Jon and Viola exchanged a worried glance.  Viola lowered her voice to ask, "No one gave you a portkey?"

Llian was surprised.  "What are you two going on about?"

"I'll take that as a no," Jon murmured, stroking his beard.  "I'll be right back."  He disappeared into the trees.

Llian turned back to Viola.  "What's that all about?"

Viola looked upset.  "We're going to have to get to the bottom of this.  You two were supposed to get portkeys to use in case of emergencies, since you're both too young to Apparate."  She sighed.  "Let's wait until Jon gets back before doing anything.  Tell me more about calluna.  You said it's almost impossible to overdose?  Are there any long-term effects?"

"It's easier for visionary Seers to 'overdose' but it still isn't lethal.  But it does take a toll mentally and physically.  If you take too much over a period of years, it leaves you in a kind of permanent semi-trance."

"How badly does that impair your judgment?  Would someone like that still be able to perceive the world at all?"

"Yes – it's not like it turns them blind or anything.  It's not a deletion of senses, but an addition.  My mother took it for ten years, from when she was five until she left when she was fifteen.  She was seeing visions right and left at the end – I guess it might have even been hard for her to tell what was real and what wasn't anymore.  Mostly, from what I could tell from her journals she was still logical and perceptive, but miserable."

"What's so horrible about visions?"

He shuddered.  "You can't imagine it.  Pretend that you're in one of those dreams where you wake up to find you're still asleep over and over.  And something horrible and scary is always happening and you can't make sense of it.  Ever had a dream like that?"

She nodded.  "Plenty of times."

"Imagine what it'd feel like to be stuck in that dream forever.  Visions aren't pleasant things.  Even when they're not of any horrific event but just everyday life they're taxing.  They're _supposed_ to be spaced out, otherwise you don't have time to make sense of them, and they're just a random jumble of noises and faces.  Having visions nonstop is like a waking nightmare."

She considered this in silence.

He jumped when a hand landed on his shoulder.  Jon had been so silent Llian hadn't even heard him come back.  He gave Llian a thin chain with what looked like a small piece of scrap metal dangling at the end.  "This is it.  Put it on and don't ever take it off.  The trigger word is Grillparzer."

"Neville-"

"I already gave 'im his."

"What happened to them?  Where were they?" Viola asked.

Jon shrugged.  "It seems they just traveled around from person to person and no one assumed the responsibility of actually giving it to them.  Originally Moody was going to make sure they got them, then it was entrusted to Edan, since he made them, but after that – who knows?"

"What'd Moody have to say about the whole mix-up?" Llian asked, wondering why he hadn't heard the ex-Auror's raging voice through the trees.

"I didn't ask him.  He has enough on his mind.  I got them, in the end, from Graff, who got them from Edan.  He seemed to want to run some tests on them first, but I thought you guys should have them now, before we leave."

"Graff!" Llian exclaimed, deep in thought.

Viola looked at him strangely.  "Something wrong?"

"No, it's just...he's a bit odd, isn't he?  Shouldn't you check these portkeys first since they've passed through so many hands."

"You're starting to sound like Moody," Viola said, sounding amused.  "But that's an excellent idea.  But portkeys aren't really my thing, they're more in Gwen and Edan's line of expertise.  Jon why don't you have-"

"I already did."  Viola stared at him.  "Edan checked them out.  They're fine."

She frowned and swatted at him.  "They why didn't you say so in the first place, you big buffoon?"

He shrugged.  "You hadn't asked me yet."

Lupin suddenly appeared behind Jon.  "Is everybody ready?"

"I am," Llian said immediately.  "I just need my pack."  Lupin nodded and went on.  Llian turned to the Kents.  "Are y'all?"

"Yawl?" Viola asked, a grin on her face.

Llian smiled.  "Ah, that's original Southern U.S. dialect for you all."

"You all.  Youall.  Y'all," Viola muttered, trying it out.  "I've heard that somewhere before, but forgotten it."

"You all," Jon repeated, clearly unimpressed.  "What's the plural?"

Llian grinned mischievously.  "All y'all."

"Oh, get on with you," Viola said, pushing him away.  "Grab your pack."

He found that Neville was already by the packs, trying unsuccessfully to strap it together.  "Here," Llian offered as he held up the pack so the clasp would reach.  Neville grunted in thanks and in turn helped Llian into his.  They walked side by side towards the rest of the group.  Llian leaned closer and whispered, "Edan said he got the portkeys from Graff.  Apparently they were floating around between people and everyone just forgot to give them to us."

Neville snorted as if he had a biting remark on the tip of his tongue, but said nothing.

"Look, I agree with what Moody said earlier.  Now isn't the time to have stupid schoolboy fights.  We need all our concentration and energy on what we're doing.  So let's just forget everything that isn't related to this trip. We can mentally store away all our grudges and then pick a day to have a huge row when we get back, okay?"  Great.  He was doing it again, being the freaking Hufflepuff, the peacemaker, the doormat for everyone else to use.  Neville better damn well appreciate it.  "Okay?"

"Sure," Neville answered.  "I shouldn't have blown up like that."

Thanks, Llian thought sarcastically.  Don't bother apologizing or anything.  But he had just promised himself to put his grudge aside, so he did.  It would stay there, a wild animal trapped in a cage, hissing and boiling until it could be let free.  They would obviously reach no agreements today.

They walked together up the hill.  Edan and Gwen were already at the top, with Carol, who was showing them something on a map.  Both the Seers' faces were pensive and studious.  Gwen smothered her brown hair down as she frowned at something Edan said.  Edan didn't look back at Llian.

Beautiful Edan.  He spontaneously reached out and held onto Neville's arm as they neared the top of the slope.  Everyone else was there, gathered together, a silent flock.  Aleta was right beside Edan, her weapons drawn and ready to enter the portal.  He shivered when they finally reached the top.  The wind up here was like acid – it felt like a callus rubbing against his cheek.

It happened quickly.  Edan and Gwen came together and before he knew it Gwen was gone through the portal that sprung up, erupting out of the earth as if it were the Great White shark in Jaws.  He didn't know what he had been expecting, but this was most definitely not it.  He had imagined something closer to a door, something with clearly defined borders and pretty lights, akin to an inter-dimensional portal in a Muggle sci-fi movie.  What appeared made him instantly repulsed.  It wasn't even a hole, it was a _tear._

Llian shrank away from it and accidentally backed into Lupin, who held firmly onto his arm with a concerned look on his face.  "Are you okay?"  he asked.

"Yeah, yeah, I'm fine.  It's just...the shock."  His voice was faint.  He realized his appendages were numb.  

Lupin didn't let go of his arm, guiding him towards the portal.  "It's be over soon.  You'll feel better afterwards.  It's okay," he whispered to Llian in a low voice.  Neville stared at Llian, unable to keep his curiosity aside.  He was never seen Llian be afraid before.  

Llian suddenly wished June were here.  That was the problem.  If June were here he wouldn't be scared at all.  But here he was, going through part of Dreamtime for the first time in his life and she wasn't with him.  She would probably make up some kind of stupid theory about why Llian was scared of the portal – most likely something explaining about how his anxiety was a repressed independence struggle from his time in his mother's womb.  Too much psychoanalysis can be bad for you.

The portal is Edan.  Edan is the portal.

He repeated this over and over in his head.  This was Edan.  No part of Edan was repulsive.  Therefore the portal wasn't repulsive.  Edan was good and kind.  The portal was safe.

With this resolution in mind, he relaxed and stepped through.

There was no sight, no sound.  He was in a vacuum, falling and floating and flying at the same time.  Dim shapes buzzed around him.  He felt other entities near, but he couldn't distinguish more than whether they were human or not.  A true Seer, like June or Harry or Florean, would be completely aware of their surroundings.  Likewise, someone lacking the Gift would be basically unconscious – unable to take in any sensory information at all.  But for someone like him, with only a bit of the Gift, it would be like a half-dream, like a window the size of a pinprick to look through.  For a few seconds, he was nothing.

*          *          *          *          *          *          *          *          *          *

[A/N: Didn't have time to give this a thorough check, so let me know if you find any mistakes. 

**MegMeg****, the one and only: Thank you so much for your kind review!  It really means a lot to me.  You are so sweet!**

**Shahanna**: Thanks for reviewing – I guess I'll stop trying to be so Epilogue happy.  I was just excited because I came up with a neat idea.

**CastleRock**: Wow, you're looking into Voldemort's reasons deeper than I am.  I really don't care why he did it; I just love it because it makes everything so wonderfully messed up.  Okay, okay, I'll wait on the Epilogue.  I didn't say that Neville survived...Maybe the story's really years after he killed himself and it's about June and him floating around Dreamtime.  You'll find out...someday...when I finish this...  Oh, but yes, the Epilogue is still traditional Thranx literature – it has death, despair, darkness, depression, murder, and psychoanalysis in it.  Go figure.]


	53. Arguments

[A/N: I am in a horrible mood.  Prepare for blood.  Lots of blood.

Foul language warning: although if you have managed to make it this far without realizing that there is ample cursing in this fanfic, I really don't know what I can do for you at this point.]

53. Arguments

"Hey guys!" Billy said as he slipped across the table from Harry, Ginny, and Ron.

Ginny sent him a disapproving look.  "Quiet," she whispered.  "Madame Pince will murder you if you keep on talking so loud."

"What?"  He ran his hands through his long hair, trying to straighten out the tangles.  "I'm practically a professor."  Ron snorted.  "I have diplomatic immunity.  I barely said anything anyway."

"Why don't you go bug someone else?" Ginny hissed.  "I'm trying to finish a Potions essay."  While Ron still worshipped Billy as some kind of idol, Ginny had long ago gotten over the fact that even though his hair was rather cool, Billy was still as annoying a dolt as the rest of her many brothers.

"No, he doesn't have to leave," Harry pleaded, smiling shyly.  Ginny knew he loved having the Weasleys around him.  It made her sad to think what a wonderful older brother Harry would be if his parents had lived and had more children.

"Why aren't you bugging _Fleur_?" Ginny asked.

Billy made a face.  "She's visiting her family.  They're staying in London over the weekend."  He looked down at his hands.  Ginny opened her mouth to ask why Billy hadn't gone with her, but Harry kicked her and shook his head.  It was scary sometimes how he could sense what she was about to say a second before she said it.  She couldn't help it.  She was in a particularly vindictive mood today.  She had practically decapitated John Ross, their reserve beater, during Quidditch practice this morning.  She even scared off Eliza, who said they could get together again once Ginny was feeling less blood-thirsty.

There was a shriek near the entrance of the library.  Madame Pince rushed over to intercept whatever was causing the racket, but the source soon burst through and rushed by the librarian as if she wasn't there.  It was Hermione, holding a flashing special edition of _The Daily Prophet.  "Arthur Weasley is out of Azkaban!  And he's coming here to Hogwarts!"_

Ginny's mouth fell open.  Ron let out a whoop and Billy jumped up and started dancing an insane waltz with a flustered Madame Pince.  Half of the library had heard her announcement and several groups of students cheered, especially the Gryffindors, where the Weasley family was well known and generally admired.  "What happened?" Harry asked.  "Is Cornelius Fudge..."

"He's still Minister, but the Ministry voted against Fudge to release Mr. Weasley."  Her cheeks glowed with excitement.  "Fudge's popularity has been diminishing ever since was declared between Skeeter and Mueller." 

"Mueller, that fucking bitch!" Ginny proclaimed.  "I hope she-"

Billy clapped a hand over her mouth.  Luckily, Madame Pince was too overjoyed at the good news to hear her curses.  "Now, Ginny – is that any way to treat a respected reporter?"  Ginny kicked at his shins.  Jo Mueller had been the top reporter a month ago, publishing anti-Weasley articles that pitted the public against the newly acquired Minister.

"Is there any chance that Mr. Weasley can boot out Fudge and become Minister again?" Harry asked, his face hopeful.

Hermione shrugged.  "I don't know.  The important thing right now is that the public is turned again against Fudge.  Of course, this is bad from another perspective, because it weakens the Ministry considerably.  And you have to take the fact that Mr. Weasley just spent a month in Azkaban, right after the death of one of his children.  It's got to have been incredibly hard for him."

Everyone around the table sobered.  "Can I read that?" Madame Pince asked suddenly.

"Sure," Hermione said, smiling widely.  Although they never talked to each other, Hermione and Madame Pince were almost as close as mother and daughter.  

"I want to read it, too," Billy said.

"And me!" Ginny exclaimed.  

"Why don't you just read it out loud?" Madame Pince suggested.  They stared open-mouthed at her.  "Quietly, that is," she directed sternly.

Hermione cleared her throat [merely for dramatic effect] and read:

_Arthur Weasley, Ministry Official and former acting-Minister, has been released from Azkaban this morning after a vote by the Council of Gooby-Doo-Doo_ [A/N: yeah, I'm making up stupid names, so bite me] _to restore him to his full title before Fudge's impeachment, writes Rita Skeeter, Daily Prophet special correspondent.  The records of the trial are currently being reviewed by Board members and a decision will be reached some time next week.  If the testimony against Fudge is found to be solid, the impeachment may be upheld.  If, by means of bribery, Fudge is able to convince Board members that the evidence against him is faulty, he may be able to retain his role of Minister and continue to wreck havoc throughout the Ministry.  Arthur Weasley will be retiring to Hogwarts for a short period and, under the care of Albus Dumbledore, will be recovering his health and planning his next political move.  Weasley is known for his characteristic level-headedness and enthusiasm for the safety of the Magical peoples of the __U.K.__  (For a further reporting of Fudge's money-mongering, turn to page 3d.  For a comprehensive overview of Fudge's participation in subversive Goblin groups, turn to page 6.7.  For an article detailing Fudge's stand on allegations by a former intern, "I Did Not Have Magical Relations with that Woman," turn to page ½)._

"When's dad going to get here?" Ginny asked.

Hermione didn't know.  

"I'll find out," Madame Pince offered suddenly, rushing away.  They looked after her in shock.  Apparently Pince was fonder of the Weasleys than she had let on.  Or maybe, as much of the magical population, was just fed up enough with Fudge to vote for anyone that had the guts to stand against him.

Ginny tapped her foot on the ground impatiently.  "Do you think he'll be okay?" she asked.

"He'll be fine," Harry assured her in a gentle voice.

It only made her more annoyed.  She hated when he acted so...nice.  None of her girlfriends could understand why she became mad when Harry acted thoughtful and considerate.  "It's just not _him," she would exclaim.  Eliza alone would somewhat understand, or at least pretend to.  "It just annoys me.  Every time we come to a door, he has to stop and open it for me."_

"And that annoys you why?" Eliza would ask.

"I don't know," she snapped back.  "I just does.  I wish..."  But she could never quite articulate her feelings.

"How do you know he'll be fine?" Ginny grilled Harry.  "Have you _seen_ him?"

"Well, no, I haven't kept up with him anymore than you have."  They hadn't been able to stay in contact with Mr. Weasley while he was at Azkaban.  "But Sirius was there for twelve years, and he's mostly fine.  I mean, it took him a while to recover physically, and he's still trying to recover emotionally, but he's mostly okay."

Ginny grit her teeth.  "Oh, well, Sirius...that's fine and good, but..."  She gathered her things.  "I have to finish my Potions homework.  It's too distracting in here."  She flung her bookbag over her shoulder and left.

She heard footsteps behind her in the hallway and turned to find Harry following her.  "What?" she growled.

Harry lifted an eyebrow.  "That's what I was going to ask you.  Something's up with you.  Can't we just talk about it?"

"No."  She turned to leave, but Harry grabbed her arm and held her firmly in place.

"Why not?  You're walking around like some kind of injured puppy, feeling so misunderstood and martyred."  His eyes were calm, but his words were sarcastic.

She sighed.  "Why can't you be like this all the time?"

"Like what?"

"Just you, just Harry.  Sometimes you just...you annoy me and I push it away because it's something really small and not worth getting upset over but then they build up and then I explode and I can't even remember why I was mad in the first place!"

Harry was silent a second.  "What about me annoys you?"

"Well...  Remember when I dropped my books last Monday, and you picked them up for me?"  He nodded.  "That annoyed me."

He shrugged.  "Okay then, I won't pick up your books anymore."

"It's not just that.  Oh, I can't explain it.  You just stand there like it's all something in _my_ head and you're the one who's being wronged."

"No I'm not," he said, his voice rising to what sounded like a whine.

"You just walk around like you're some kind of saint, some kind of mysterious, powerful being who condescends to be nice to us filthy mortals."

Harry's cheeks reddened.  "I never think that!  Why would you say that?"

"Because you do!  You think you're so special, you never think that you're just another teenager at just another school.  You walk around like the weight of the world is on your shoulders when it's not."

"But it is!" he insisted angrily.  "I'm the one who's going to be as powerful as Voldemort!  Don't you remember the prophecy?"

"But you still just stand here as if this power is going to grow on you magically, and it's not!  You have to work at it!  Just like always expect to be one of the best in every class without trying hard, just because you're smart.  And you always expect to be the best in Quidditch!  So you _are here, but in the real world you're just another boy who plays Quidditch as a school sport.  Don't you see?  You were fabulous when you were picked as a Seeker your first year, but have you really gotten any better since then?"_

Harry stared at her open-mouthed.  "I...I don't know.  I never – I don't really look at it that way.  Quidditch...well, you've either got it or you don't.  I am the best.  I can't change that.  Excuse me for being honest with myself."  She started to walk away.  "What?!"

She turned around.  "Neville?  What about him?  Do you think everyone was born that way?  Are you content, being the best?  So you're the best at Hogwarts, so what?  Hogwarts isn't the only school in the world.  In the real-world, you're still going to be a small-fry."

Harry was nearly spitting with rage.  "No, I'm not.  Even Bagman complimented me."

"Yes, _Bagman_.  You're not getting my point.  You are good Harry, extremely good – but _for a student!"  She said the last bit loudly and slowly, as if talking to someone both very old and foreign._

He suddenly grinned.  "You're jealous," he said.  She shook her head, unable to believe he was telling her this.  "That's it, isn't it?  You're jealous of me?  Had to practice for years just to get half as good as me?"  His eyes were almost glowing.  Ginny felt sick.  "I can't help what I am."

"Je-jealous?!"  Ginny was so furious she was shaking.  "You worthless piece of dragon dung!"

"Ha!  Who saved the Sorcerer's/Philosopher's stone from Voldemort?  Who found the Chamber of Secrets?  Who rescued you from a slow death of starvation in the Chamber of Secrets?  Who defeated the Basilisk?  Who repelled an entire army of Dementors?  Who won the TriWizard Cup?  Who dueled with Voldemort and escaped with his life?  Who do you think saved June from the Keep?"  His voice rose so that by the end he was shouting.  The several students walking by had stopped and stared.

"Who let Pettigrew escape?" Ginny replied.  "Whose blood let Voldemort be revived?  Who was possessed by a fucking book and tried to kill June?  Who's already a murderer at fifteen?"

"HE BLOODY DESERVED IT!"  The hallway was very silent except for Harry's deep, harsh breathing.

"Did he?" she asked.  "Was it worth it?  You could have let him go to Azkaban, get a taste of his own medicine-"

"Azkaban?   The Dementors will be under Voldemort's control anytime now.  _I_ was the one who heard Voldemort's plan, _I'm_ the one with a link to him."

"Oh, that's very clever of you.  You worked really hard at that, did you?  All you had to do was let your mother die for you – a piece of cake, right?"

Ginny regretted it the second she said it, but she knew she could never ever take it back.  Harry went completely still.  His face became gray.  "Oh, Harry...I'm sorry," she whispered.  But she could feel a rift forming between them.  He was pulling apart as she spoke.  Although there were tears flowing in a tiny stream out the corner of his eyes, his face was completely blank.  He turned and walked slowly away, as if in a trance.

"I'm sorry, I'm sorry," she whispered.  She couldn't even begin to convince herself that he had deserved it this time.  

*          *          *          *          *          *          *          *          *

Sirius trotted up the stairs to the boys' fifth year dormitory, wagging his tail fiercely, ready to tell Harry about Arthur's arrival.  He had been in shock for days after Peter's death.  He had imagined Peter's death so many times, in exquisite detail, but Harry had never fit in the picture.  He remembered Harry wanting to kill him back when he was a Third year.  Harry had paused then; he had hesitated while standing over Sirius with his wand ready to use, and it had saved Sirius's life.  He had looked so innocent and sad then.  Sirius had wanted to pick him up and hug him.  His frozen heart had thawed and almost broke.  What had happened to that sweet little boy?

He reached the top of the stairs and nosed the door open, and used his rump to close it behind him.  He didn't smell anyone else in the room, so he changed to his human form and locked the door.  Harry was sitting on his bed, staring out of the window.  It was white outside, as if the sky had been covered with snow.  Harry's face was blank, but his cheeks were red with tear-stains.

He sat down next to him.  Harry didn't look up or move or do anything to acknowledge him.  Sirius cleared his throat.  "So how ya been, kiddo?"

Harry ignored him.

Sirius wrinkled his brow.  Harry sometimes became dazed when he was first coming into his Seeing power, but that was months ago.  He reached out a hand and gently shook the boy's shoulder.  "Harry, come on, what's wrong with you?"

Harry's hand shot out and grabbed Sirius's.  Their eyes met.  "Don't touch me," he said in a deadly voice, and then turned back to the window, letting his hand fall limply on the bed.

"Harry, please talk to me.  I care about you."

Harry laughed cruelly.  "Oh, don't I feel special.  The only person who loves me spent twelve years in Azkaban and is only half-sane."

Sirius felt his face grow hot.  If James had told him that he would have pounced on him in a heartbeat and they would have had a full-out fight that would likely have destroyed the entire dormitory and half of the common room as well.  But Harry was different.  "It hurts me that you say that..."  He took deep gulps of air, trying to cool his notorious temper.  "But lots of people care about you.  Your friends, your teachers, Dumbledore-"

"Dumbledore cares about the Boy Who Lived.  He doesn't care about Harry."

"He does-"

"Then why did he leave me with the Dursleys?  Why else did no one take me?  Am I that horrible a person?"

"What?  You're not a horrible person at all!  Why would you say that, Harry?"  He tried to keep his cool, say what Remus would say.  Now wasn't the time to throw a temper-tantrum.  Harry needed an adult, not another angsty teenager.

"It's punishment.  That must be it.  I'm a horrible person, so I had to be punished."

"Punished?  Who punished you?  Is it Snape?  Is he giving you a hard time?  I'll kill him, you know I will, just say the word-"

But Harry shook his head.  More tears were gathering in his eyes.  Sirius tentatively put a hand on his shoulder again, and when he didn't flinch he tried to give him a one-armed hug.  Harry stiffened.  No matter how many times he tried to hug him, Harry always stiffened.  "Why do you do that?"

"Do what?"

"Pull away when I try to hug you.  Do you not want me to hug you?  Are you mad at me?"  He didn't vocalize what was really on his mind: Don't you trust me?

"It's not you – it's just, I've never been hugged much.  I'm not used to it."  Harry took a deep breath.  "Do you know...a lot of kids had their own bedrooms when they were growing up."  He glanced up at Sirius, who pointedly kept his face blank.  Harry misinterpreted his look.  "It surprised me, too."  He opened up a bit.  "I knew that Dudley always had his own bedrooms, but...  I just...Do you think I'm a horrible person?"

"No!"

"I think I must be."

"What are you trying to tell me?"

Harry smiled sadly.  "Ginny's right about everything.  I like to think I'm special.  I like to think I can do anything.  I like to think that everyone looks up to me.  I like to think that I'm well liked.  I..."

"Harry, everyone thinks that.  Well, most sane, non-depressed people do."  He thought of Remus, who was prone to depression, and of Harry's friend June, who often seemed borderline.  "Everyone likes to think that they're special and have friends who like them.  Why does that make you a horrible person?"

"It's kind of new to me.  When I lived with the Dursleys I used to think that I was nothing.  I knew, deep down inside, that I was special, that I must be more than what they told me.  But for years it was...I was Harry, just Harry, not the Boy Who Lived.   I was the stupid one, the freaky one, the worthless one."  His shoulders sagged.  "Ginny said I'm pig-headed."

"She told you that?"

"Not that directly, but that was the main gist of it.  She gave me quite a thorough tongue lashing, actually."

"Ouch."  Sirius knew only too well how much the contempt of a loved one could hurt.

"Yeah.  She made me...she made me feel, for a second, like the Dursleys used to.  They used to-"  He stopped suddenly.

"What?  What is it?  Go on."

Harry looked uncomfortable.  "I don't...I don't want to make you angry.  You might get angry, and that would just upset me, and it'll make it sound worse than it was."

"What did those muggles tell you?" he growled.  He knew they had hid the truth of Harry's past from him, but Harry had always been reticent to talk about them.  

"Don't get mad, okay?"  His eyebrows came together in the middle as he struggled with whatever he was feeling.  Sirius wasn't sure how to help him.  Harry was a good kid, he was affectionate and honorable, but he _did_ have a lot of emotional issues.  The more Sirius learned about Harry, the more alone and troubled the boy seemed to become.

"Even if I get mad, I wouldn't get mad at _you.  And even if you did do something to make me mad, I'd be mad at what you did, but still not at _you_.  Do you understand?"_

Harry's face was blank.  "Sure."  Sirius thought he was lying.  He didn't seem to understand at all.  "I just...I don't like feeling like that.  Worthless."

Sirius tensed.  "How did those muggles make you feel worthless?"

Harry gave a short, mirthless laugh.  "Just by being born.  I...damn them.  I only have to see them over the summer now, and I still..."  His face struggled through a variety of emotions, none of which Sirius could interpret.  "And then I came here, and – jeez, I have my own bed."

Alarm bells went off in Sirius's head.  "What did you do, sleep on the floor at Dursley's?"

"Oh, no – on a cot."

"A cot."  Sirius closed his eyes.  He had seen the Dursleys' house twice, once many years ago when Lily was still alive and young and again two years ago when he had first escaped Azkaban.  "It must have been very small."

"Actually it was too big.  It almost didn't fit in the cupboard."

"Why would you put it in the cupboard?"  Now he was just confused.

"That's where I slept."

Sirius stared at him uncomprehendingly.  "In the cupboard."

Harry relaxed, obviously relieved that Sirius wasn't blowing up.  "Yeah.  There were a lot of spiders in there.  And there wasn't a light.  You know, sometimes when I pick up a fiction book, if I'm bored enough, if something happened like that to a character in a story they'd grow up being claustrophobic, and scared of the dark and spiders.  But I guess in real life it doesn't work that way."  He smiled shyly.  "I used to play with them, the spiders.  I'd name them and hold them.  A lot of people are scared that they'll bite, they never bit me.  I'd let them crawl over me.  Sometimes I'd wake up in the middle of the night and a whole bunch of them would be crawling over me in a line.  I'd just giggle.  I guess I thought it was some kind of game.  I didn't have a lot to do in there.  Uncle Vernon's favorite way to punish me was to lock me in there.  Once I spent an entire summer in there.  They only opened the door to let me use the bathroom once a day, and to give me some food.  But-"

"Wait a second."  Sirius interrupted his soliloquy.  "You slept in the cupboard."

Harry hesitated.  "Yeah."  He frowned at Sirius's darkening face.  "Don't go all berserk on me.  It's not like I've been scarred for life or anything."  He frowned.

"How big was this cupboard?"

Harry shrugged.  He tried to measure it out using his bed as a reference.  "About from here, to here."

"Ah, I see.  You slept in a cupboard that was four feet long and two feet wide.  That's quite normal."

"Oh, good."

"Are you kidding me?!  What the hell was Dumbledore thinking?  You stayed with these assholes?  I'll kill them!  I'll bloody kill them!"  Harry instantly crouched down as if expecting Sirius to jump at him.  "What else did those...those Mudbloods do?"

"Sirius!  Don't call them that!  I have friends who are muggles."

"I'm sorry – no, I'm not sorry for anything I call those bloody..."   He mumbled a string of explicatives that made Harry wince. 

"It's not like they beat me or anything.  Well, Uncle Vernon did, but not too much.  Mostly they just locked me in the closet.  At least they let me stay with Mrs. Figg when they went on vacations.  I think they locked me in the cupboard once when they went to the beach for the weekend and I got out and messed up the house, so they didn't want to risk it again."  He faltered, seeing Sirius's expression.  "How did we even get on this subject?  I was just trying to explain how worthless Ginny makes me feel."  He laughed.  "You're acting like they abused me or something."

"No, it's called child neglect, and it also is illegal."

Harry wilted under Sirius's stare.  "Sorry."

"Sorry?!  Don't you dare ever let me hear you apologize for those buffoons!"

"Sorry."  

"What else?"

"What?"

"Tell me more.  What else did they do?"

Harry shook his head.  "It'll just upset you."

"Upset me?  Why should you worry about having to upset me?  You had to _live_ through it, why shouldn't it upset me?"

"Because that's not what I wanted to talk about!" Harry screamed.

They sat staring at each other.  "Okay," Sirius said slowly.  "We're going to have to finish this conversation sometime, though, you know that?"  Harry looked away and gave a half-hearted nod.  "What did you want to talk about?"

"What Ginny said.  And what happened...with P-Pettigrew."

Sirius found himself filled with cold dread.  He had known the instant it happened that he and Harry would have to sit down and have a long talk, but they hadn't gotten around to it yet.  

"Do you think I did the right thing?" Harry whispered.

"Do you think you did?"

"Yes," Harry said fiercely.  "He deserved to die."

"Yet, two years ago you didn't want me and Remus to kill him.  You said your parents wouldn't have wanted us to become murderers for their sakes."

"But now I'm the murderer.  Were you surprised when I killed him?"

Sirius took a deep breath.  Here goes nothing, he thought.  "Frankly, no I wasn't."

Harry looked surprised, then betrayed.  "I killed a man and you didn't find it odd?"

"I meant to say, that I don't think it was an uncharacteristic show of violence for you."

Harry sat up straight and drew in a shallow breath.  "So you think I'm violent?  You think I'm evil?  Is that it?  I was born a murderer and will end up a murderer."

"Nobody's born a murderer."

"I was.  I killed my parents just by being born."  Harry held up a hand to stop Sirius's protest.  "Say what you want, justify it, but it's true.  I wasn't conscious of it at the time, but that's what it comes down to.  I killed them by being born."

Sirius looked pained.  "They were on Voldemort's hit-list anyway.  They were both members of the Order of the Phoenix and strong fighters against the Dark Lord.  For all you know, if you hadn't been born they would still be dead anyway.  They had made too many Dark enemies."

"And my father was Voldemort's son."

Sirius wrapped his arms around his ribs.  "Yes," he choked out.  "He was.  Voldemort didn't acknowledge him.  He thought that dismissing your offspring was the same as negating their existence."

"And you think I'm evil too?  Like Voldemort?"

"Don't put words in my mouth.  You asked if I thought you were violent, and I said you are.  Violence and Dark magic don't always go together hand-in-hand.  Your father was violent too; Light as can be, hated anything Dark with a passion, but violent.  If someone harmed a friend, he would go after them and beat them until they were a bloody pulp and incapable of ever hurting anyone again.  You're the same way."

"But I haven't always been like this, have I?"

"Don't count on it, kiddo.  Geez, you went after Voldemort by yourself when you were only eleven years old.  Don't fool yourself that you weren't ready to fight to the death whoever you found at the end of the maze.  And your second year you killed a Basilisk with nothing but a sword?"

"It was mostly luck," he muttered.

"Then your third year you were blood-thirsty for my life."

"Sorry about that."

"Don't tell me you're not violent.  You always have been, and you always will be.  You can't change who you are, but you can use what you have to your advantage."

"What do you mean?"

Sirius shrugged.  "You use your aggression out in Quidditch, don't you?  If someone's next to you trying to reach the Snitch, you're not above giving them a shove out the way, are you?"

"Of course not."  How many times had he won having to push his opponent out of the way?

"And you're fantastic at dueling and pick up hexes and curses like a charm."  Harry smiled proudly.  "The more you know about yourself, the more it helps you.  For instance, when you pick a career, maybe-"

"I can be an Auror!" Harry immediately replied.

Sirius laughed.  "Yeah, I was going to suggest that.  You have the determination and will to fight.  It would suit you well."

"Thanks," Harry said brightly.  His face fell.  "But do you think it was wrong?  Me killing Pettigrew?"

"I think...I wish you hadn't.  I should have stopped you.  Even if he deserved, I wish you hadn't – hadn't made yourself a murderer just for vengeance."

Harry looked as horrible as Sirius guessed he felt.  "You know what scares me?  I don't feel sorry.  When I killed Quirrel-"

"You didn't kill him!"

"It's directly my fault he died.  I forced Voldemort out his body.  But when I killed him, I didn't feel sorry at all."  He frowned.  "In fact, most of the time, I think I feel more guilty over the fact that I don't feel guilty."

"In either case you feel guilty," Sirius argued.  "So obviously you are fully capable of having morals and feeling guilt, so whatever point you're trying to make is absolutely pointless."  He paused.  "That was a stupid sentence."

Harry bit his lip.  "I guess, I feel guilty about a lot of things.  But some things, like helping to steal stuff from Snape's stores, and throwing mud at Malfoy, I don't feel guilty at all."

Sirius guffawed.  "If I felt guilty for every single prank I pulled while I was at Hogwarts, I wouldn't have any mental capacity for anything else."  Harry opened his mouth, half-grinning, but Sirius cut him off, "And don't you dare tell me whatever smart aleck retort is on the tip of your tongue about my already having a strained mental capacity as it is."  

Harry leaned back on his elbows.  He reached behind his head to grab a pillow and chucked it at Sirius.  "You know me too well, old man."

Sirius mock-growled.  "Come on, you brat.  Let's go eat lunch.  There's a special friend of yours you might be interested in seeing again.  He should already be here and have met up with his many children by now."

"Mr. Weasley?"  Harry immediately sat up at attention.

"That's him."

"Alright!"  He jumped up and ran out the door, Sirius trotting behind him as Padfoot, aka Snuffles.

*          *          *          *          *          *          *          *          *          *          *          *

[A/N: Ok, we didn't get to the bloody part yet, everyone took too long talking dammit!

-I forgot to mention in the last chapter: Grillparzer, the word to activate the portkeys given to Neville and Llian, is from John Irving's _The World According to Garp, which is a very interesting book that CastleRock got me for Christmas.  Bless your heart.  (Wait, do you even have a heart?...)_

I haven't been making many book allusions lately.  What's wrong with me?

**CastleRock**: Damn you for figuring out my nasty little secret.  What fun is reading this anymore?  You might as well take a nap and save the two minutes it takes to read.  I'm sorry I wasn't su**b**tle enough.

**MegMeg****, the one and only:  Thanks for catching my mistakes!  I'm going to go back and fix former chapter's mistakes...someday...  Thanks for reviewing!**

**Shahanna**: Thanks!

**Nilfalasiel**: Wow, that's impressive.  It's a good amount of reading for only three days.  You must be a speed reader.  Now, if only I could _write_ that fast...  Thanks for reviewing!

**serena_kahn**: Thanks!  June is actually based somewhat off of me (in the sense that any character reflects on the author).  She's depressive and emotional, and also a bookworm, writer and musician like me.  Unfortunately, having wings is only a _fantasy_ I've had all my life.  Maybe I just haven't found them yet :-)


	54. Compromised

[A/N: Just to avoid confusion – the "Hogwarts" and "Volari" plotlines are not necessarily going on at the same time.  Hogwarts is ahead by half a week.  Thus, what you read now means the Volari plotline would be starting on, say, Wednesday if Hogwarts is on Sunday.  Got it?  Don't worry, they'll converge soon :-) ]

54. Compromised

Benford talked with the three Volari for what seemed like hours before he finally walked back to where the group was huddled and announced, "We're in."

Carol was ecstatic.  "Are Malia and Tangur coming?"  They were two Volari friends of hers that she was especially anxious to see.

Benford smiled at her enthusiasm.  "According to Ike, the one I spoke to, your friends about 100 miles to the north.  They should get there soon after we do.  We have a little less than a day's walk to reach the Volari settlement."  He motioned to Moody, who drew closer, his magic eye still fixed on the few Volari lurking about fifty meters away.  "We already knew that not many people could come, but they've restricted it farther than we originally planned.  They're quite antsy just having this many people near their territory."

"How many?" Moody demanded, looking ready to argue.

"Four."

Moody cursed.  

"It's not as bad as it seems," Benford tried to assure him.  "There are three Volari, two of them full-grown, and each one of them can probably equal the strength of three full-grown wizards.  There are more circling around the skies.  They're quite excited about meeting a Haran.  They'd die before they let anything to happen to him."

"If they can fight."

"If they can fight," he admitted.  While powerful, the Volari were nervous at contact and had no qualms about flying away.  "But these three seem especially anxious about having a Haran.  The last Haran died two years ago, and they haven't found another since."

"You've made it clear that the boy has no intention of staying longer than possible?"  They didn't want the Volari to have the mistaken impression that Llian would stay to substitute his mother's position.

Benford paused.  "Well...I didn't put it that way."

"You didn't tell them?"  Moody looked murderous.

"I did mention that he might not be staying, but...How else are we going to receive an audience with these people.  I told them that Llian is currently traveling, but looking for a place to settle down."

Moody started growling deep in his chest.

"I made no guarantees!" Benford exclaimed, looking ruffled.  "We have to give them some reason to listen to us."

Moody drew him aside and they exchanged angry whispers.  The rest of the group shifted their weight back and forth uncomfortably.  Finally Moody decided, "There's nothing we can do at this point.  I expect you to follow through with what we've have _already_ arranged.  None of this irrelevant sneaky business."  Benford frowned but nodded.  He was fond of telling stories and had no qualms about whether something was true or not.  His favorite game was to make up something on the spot and have his audience guess what was true and what wasn't.  Half the time he wouldn't tell the answer – it drove poor Viola absolutely mad.

"Which four are going then?" Aleta asked.  

Moody rubbed his chin.  "I will have to stay here, and the two guides, Mr. Lupin and Mr. Kent, will be needed here.  Also the Healers, let's see, that would be Cyrix and Viola, would stay; and the Seers."  Edan and Gwen looked a little disappointed, but were resigned.  Everyone was secretly hoping for a closer peek at the Volari.  "Then we'll need protection, so I would have to think about whether I can spare any Aurors.  Graff has no reason to go," he murmured, half to himself, half out loud.

"Why don't you look at it the other way – who has to go?" Meg suggested.

Quentin agreed.  He nervously stroked his red hair as he asked, "Can my whole team stay here?  I'd feel more comfortable if we were together.  We work best as a unit."

Moody nodded.  "That would work fine.  So that's...Quentin, Meg, Jordan, and Terryn."  Augustus was an Auror, too, but he worked solo, not on Quentin's team.  "But who do I send?  Augustus?  Aleta?  Aleta might be the most useful here, but Augustus's strength is in offensive, not defensive maneuvers."

"Well, you know that I have to go," said Carol.  "I'm you anthropological expert."  She grinned.  "And Benford has to go because he understands the archaic Volari.  My friends speak a different version, and would be biased in their translation.  And Llian, of course."

"Of course.  But who should be the fourth?" Moody asked.  He was plainly becoming annoyed at the change of plans.

"Can I go?" Neville asked suddenly.

"You, boy?  No!" Moody barked.

"But...I know a lot about Volari.  My girlfriend's a full-blooded Volari.  I'm best friends with two Harans.  I know a lot from them."  He paused.  Geez, his words sounded lame even to him.  He lit onto another idea.  "Why did the Volari not bring three full-grown people?"  He motioned towards where the two adults and one teenager waited, wings still outstretched in preparation to leave at a moment's notice.

"To prove that they mean us no harm," Carol answered instantly.

"Well, you could send me to show that we mean them no harm."

"And what is Llian then?" Moody asked skeptically.

Carol's eyes widened.  "You know he's right.  Llian's a Haran – they have full adult status."

Moody narrowed his eyes and turned to Benford.  "The _only_ way I'll consider sending Longbottom is if you can convince them to let five people come along."

Benford shook his head.  "I argued and argued.  I do not believe it is possible that they'll back down."

Moody looked appraisingly at the group.  They were silent, waiting for his decision.  Jon spoke, "Maybe it's not a bad idea to let Neville go."  Moody stared at him, but didn't say anything.  Jon continued, "The Volari aren't that great at Healing charms.  Their powers are too great to be focused on some of the more delicate spells for healing wings and fingers and such.  They have to use plants for most of their healings, and are in some respect little better at it than Muggles.  Correct?"  He looked to Carol for confirmation.  She nodded.  "Neville is a natural at Healing, although I won't deny that it is a problem that he only just recently came into his full power.  But he also has a strong grounding in Herbology – and, being a Herbology expert myself, I don't say that lightly."

Moody still didn't say anything.  "Where do you want to go?" he finally asked Aleta.

"I want to stay with the kids, but I think the Volari would make me as nervous as I'd make them.  I'd be pulling out knives at every sound."  She smiled wryly.

"Do you think it's safe?" Moody asked Augustus and Quentin.  They looked at each other and shrugged.

"I don't like it.  In terms of defense it's not good, but it's probably the best way to send a delegation.  They're less likely to feel threatened if we don't send in a bunch of Aurors.  And they'll listen to us more if they aren't wary of us.  That's the point of the mission, isn't it?" Quentin offered.

"At least we know for absolute certain that everyone we send can be totally trusted," Augustus said bluntly.  There was some muttering and shuffling through the group at his comment.  From the first day, there had been a constant guard against leakage and betrayal.  "And some of the more...suspicious characters can be kept an eye on."  Augustus had been open in his distrust of the others in the group, which basically included everyone that hadn't been trained as an Auror.  The only non-Aurors he openly trusted were Carol, Benford, and Cyrix.

Finally Moody decided.  "Fine.  But you'd better take good care of them," he warned Benford, who only smiled toothily.  

Neville shook his head in amazement.  It was a testament to how powerful the Volari must be if even Moody could agree to send an old man, a middle-aged researcher, and two boys off on their own.  He hadn't thought too much about what it would be mean to be separated from Llian, but now he realized he would have been terribly lonely without him.  He was suddenly full of excitement.  It was an adventure!

*          *          *          *          *          *          *          *          *          *          *          

They had just started towards the Great Hall when Harry abruptly stopped and turned towards the hospital wing.  Sirius was confused, but followed him anyway, his claws clicking on the stone floor.  His godson stopped in front of the door to the hospital wing and listened.  There were voices inside.  He inched the door open and peeked inside.  Sirius nosed the door open wider and slipped inside.

"Harry?"  Mr. Weasley saw him from across the room.  He was seated on a hospital bed surrounded by his family and Dumbledore.

He nodded and stepped into the hospital wing, with Sirius running in circles around him.  Mr. Weasley had always been thin, but even a month was enough to take the color out of his face and the flesh away from his bones.  His eyes were wide and hollow, as if he had lost George just yesterday.  And he had really – he certainly had been reliving the tragedy, among all the others in his life, over and over.  Harry knew only too well how horrible it felt to have something gnaw at his brain without reprieve.  The extra mourning hadn't helped the man an ounce; it only forced him to never get over it.

In an uncharacteristic display of emotion, Harry went right up to the man who was practically family to him, and gave him a small hug.  Mr. Weasley's eyes filled with tears.  Ginny smiled at Harry.  She knew how awkward he was at maintaining physical contact with people.  They had been dating a while now and he had only hugged her twice, and once was after a particularly triumphant Quidditch practice.  Sirius, seeing no one else was about, changed back to his human form.  He tried to smile, but Harry thought he saw anger in his eyes.  Or was it jealousy?  It was an intriguing thought, and Harry decided to store it away for further examination later.

"How are you doing?" Mr. Weasley asked, wiping his tears away.  He looked two snaps away from a complete nervous breakdown.  Harry was confident that the aftereffects of Azkaban would melt quickly.  Arthur Weasley was strong, especially when he was needed most, as he certainly was now.

"I should be asking you that, sir.  Your aura is much thinner, but the core is, if anything, brighter."  He smiled.  "You should recover in no time."

Madame Pomphrey came out of nowhere and gave Harry a disparaging look.  "That's for _me_ to decide young man, I say he needs a least three days worth of rest and relaxation."

"Three days?" Mr. Weasley guffawed.  "I don't have time to sit here for three days.  We have too much to do.  Percy, did you bring everything?"

Percy nodded.  "Of course," he replied, indignant that his father even had to ask.  "All your followers are still for you.  Not all of them openly support you, but they'll work with us, I think.  I've been keeping up with everything – the financial books, the correspondents.  I think you'll find everything in order.  We need to make our move as soon as possible.  The Ministry is still divided over your release right now, and they'll regroup and find their old prejudices again once everything settles down."

"He'll do nothing of the sort!" exclaimed Mrs. Weasley.  "Arthur, I forbid you for moving one step out of Hogwarts until you have fully recovered."

"But-"

"It's not as if you're cut off from the Wizarding world.  You can keep up with things here, and Percy can be your envoy.  Billy and Charlie, too, if need be.  But _you_ are staying put until you're in a fit state to travel again."

"But-"

"What kind of example would you be to our children, running off like a little school boy who just received his Hogwarts letter?"

"But-"

"And that's my final decision."  She folded her arms and suddenly used the bulk of her body to appear larger than she actually was.

Mr. Weasley hung his head.  "Yes, Molly," he agreed.

"Well, now that that's settled, let's all go down to lunch, shall we?" Mrs. Weasley said brightly, rubbing her hands together.  Mr. Weasley got to his feet apprehensively.  "I intend to stuff you so full of food, Arthur Weasley, that you won't even be able to stand afterwards."

The entire Weasley family and Harry winced, knowing well enough to take her threat seriously.  Mr. Weasley turned green at the thought of it.

"Now, now, Molly – we don't want to make Arthur sick, we want him to get better," Dumbledore said, chuckling.

Madame Pomphrey shook a finger at Mrs. Weasley.  "Don't you be stressing the poor man any more than what he's been through.  No heavy foods for at least two days, not too many dairy products or meat, and do try to take in as many carbohydrates as you can, Arthur?"  Mr. Weasley nodded, shifting from foot to foot as if he were a little boy again receiving instructions from the school nurse.

"Are you sure you're up to having lunch in the Great Hall?" Sirius asked suddenly.  "I know I was there longer and it can't compare, but when I first got out of Azkaban I know I wouldn't have been able to eat around so many people again."

Mr. Weasley smiled, but there was apparent pain underneath.  "It might be a bit stressful, but nothing a nap won't cure.  I want to see everybody again."  His smile faltered.  "I don't know how you did it, Sirius.  I was loosing it.  I don't know how I could have stayed there a minute longer.  Every second of every hour, it was the same things over and over...  My parent's house being burned eighteen years ago, the Knight Bus..."  He shuddered.  

Sirius gave a heart-hearted smile and put an arm around Mr. Weasley's shoulders.  "It's going to be okay Arthur.  You're gone from there.  You just need to get back on your feet.  There needs to be a change at Azkaban before the Dementors become even more in control, and you're just the man to do it."

Mr. Weasley sighed.  "I hope so."  His stomach growled.  His family tittered.  "Hmm, I guess we should eat!"  The family bounded towards the entrance as one, in the typical hungry-Weasley family.  Sirius stayed close by Mr. Weasley, walking besides him in dog form as they left.  Ginny hung back.  Dumbledore, too, looked like he was going to stay and say something to Harry, but he saw Ginny's deliberate maneuver and quickly left.

"Harry?" Ginny asked shyly.  

Harry grit his teeth together, ready for her to continue her earlier assault.  "You don't have to tell me.  I'm revolting, I'm disgusting, I'm a horrible, horrible person.  I'm a freak and my parents were no accounts and I don't deserve to live," he recited in a monotone.

"No, I never said that!"

"Well, _you_ didn't, I guess.  Not directly, anyway."

"What do you mean, that someone else did tell you that?  Was it Malfoy?  I can curse him for you," she offered, her hand already reaching for her wand.

"No.  What a great person, even my worst enemy at school treats me better than my guardians."  A flood of heat rose through him when he suddenly realized that Malfoy was no longer the enemy.

Ginny gasped.  "They didn't really say that to you, did they?"

Harry gave an odd noise that sounded halfway between a laugh, a snort, and a sniff.  "Only every day of my miserable life."  He flung his head back and looked up at the ceiling.  "I'm whining again, aren't I?  I hate when I sound like this.  Let's talk about something else."

Ginny bit her lip.  "You're so...contradictory."

"How so?"

"When it comes to other people, you're mature and understanding.  You make other people confront their problems.  You just have this thing around people, like a born leader.  But you're completely clueless when it comes to yourself, aren't you?"

Harry shrugged.  "I don't really matter much.  It's not really worth my time to sit there and think about myself."

Ginny sighed.  "What I said earlier was horrible.  You of all people didn't deserve it.  I hope you can forgive me."  She looked at him sharply.  "I've half a mind to charm your memory so you'll forget I said it."

Harry studied her closely.  "You don't have to, I forgive you.  You were angry."

She shook her head.  "Of course you forgive me.  You're Harry.  I just ground your ego down to the ground and spit on it, what else would you do but forgive me?  I believe that you'll _forgive_ what I said, but I know for a fact you'll never _forget_ it."  Harry turned his face away.  "And you believe it too, don't you?"

"But it is true."

"It's not!"

"It is."

"It's not!"

"IT IS!"

Ginny paused.  "What exactly did I say in the first place?"

Harry wrinkled his brow.  "You said...I don't remember your exact words."  He grinned guiltily.  "All I remember was thinking, 'She's right, I don't deserve to live.'"

Ginny let out a long breath.  "I would _never_, no matter how angry I was, say that you didn't deserve to live.  How could you have jumped to something like that so easily?"

"Practice."

"Oh, Harry.  What are we going to do with you?"

They stared at each other for a while.  "I'm sorry."

"You don't have to apologize.  Harry, listen, I know you don't believe me, but there's no one except for followers of Voldemort who think that you don't deserve to live.  So who are you going to believe, the crazy nutters or everybody else?"

"Who do I believe if I'm a bit of a crazy nutter myself?"

She shook her head impatiently.  "It's so hard to talk with you.  You're so willing to talk about everybody else, but you never say anything about yourself.  Everything we learn about you we learn more from what you don't say than what you do.  You've never come straight out and said that you hate the Dursleys, have you?"  He shrugged.  "We just figured because you never talked about them, and if mention of them came up somehow you'd just make a face and turn away."

"What is there to say about them?"

"How about that they treat you like shit and make you wish you weren't alive."

"Yes, there's that."

"But it's horrible."

"Look, plenty of kids don't even have homes.  Lots of kids are beaten every day, others are starving, plenty are on the streets without shelter or proper clothes.  Why should I complain?"

"Because it's still horrible.  I don't think there's any excuse for it.  I don't understand why Dumbledore made you stay there."

"I guess no one else wanted me."

Ginny snorted.  "Rubbish!  You really are thick, you know that.  Plenty people would love to adopt you.  How could they not, you're just so cute."  She made to mock-pinch his cheeks, but he dodged her easily.

"Anyone who thinks that just wants the freakin' Boy Who Lived, they don't care about _Harry_."

She made an impatient gesture.  "I don't even know what to say to you.  You won't listen to me anyway.  You know what?  I'm not even going to try.  You're as bad as Neville, just not as vocal."

He rolled his eyes.  "I'm not _that_ bad."

She assessed him.  "I think you are.  But in a different way.  You both have issues."

"Issues my ass," Harry muttered.  Ginny heard his statement but refrained from commenting.  "Let's go eat.  With that crowd ahead of us, there might not be any food left by the time we get there."

Harry reached out and held her hand while they walked, grinning to himself.  'Like two little third years,' he thought to himself.  At least he was still able to laugh at himself, although such sentiments came less and less frequently.

"About what you said before...do you mind...if we talk about it?"

"Sure."  She squeezed his hand reassuringly.  "What did I say before?"

"About how I go around pretending that I have the world on my shoulders.  I think you're right – in some way, I really do.  I mean, I _am_ one of the few people who have survived an encounter with Voldemort, hmm, three times."

"Four.  You're not counting his memory from that journal your second year."

"That doesn't count."

"Like heck it doesn't count.  That bastard possessed me and almost killed me.  It fucking counts," she spat vehemently.

He sighed.  "I really do feel that way though, like I'm meant to do something.  Maybe it's just my inflated ego – that's probably what Snape would say."

"I'm not Snape."

"I just feel, that this is something I should dedicate my life to, maybe even sacrifice it for.  The prophecy says that I have the potential to be as great as Voldemort.  And then with all these new things I'm constantly learning about my powers, and things Florean and June are teaching me...I just feel like I have a _duty_ to commit myself to stopping Voldemort, no matter what.  It feels almost...like destiny, like something I don't even have any control over that really started with my parents."

Ginny bit her lip.  "But it's not up to you.  By all means, play the hero, help win this war, but it isn't up to you.  It's up to a lot of people.  It's up to Dad, and Dumbledore, and June and Llian, and even Neville in his own way.  Even if you suddenly have a growth spurt and come to full power, you still need everyone else, too."

"I know.  I still...it's like if I fail, I'll let so many people down, that I'll have failed them, too."  He looked at Ginny's face searchingly.  "Maybe this is a sign of my inflated ego.  I don't know what to think.  I need to go fly.  Some good Quidditch practice will make me feel better."

"I agree."

Harry suddenly smiled and laughed with joy.  "That's why I love you, Ginny.  Hermione would have rolled her eyes and gone to sulk in the library, Eliza would have said 'If you _must_' and June would have thought I was wasting time I could have been using exploring dreamtime."

"Hmmph!  Quidditch is just as important as life itself," Ginny declared.  "There's nothing better than flying through the air at breakneck speeds on a piece of wood."

"Ahem," Harry intoned.

They reached the Great Hall and sat together at the Gryffindor table, across from Hermione and Ron.  The rest of the Weasleys were sitting together at the staff table. Students and teachers alike frequently went up to the front of the Great Hall to talk with Mr. Weasley.  Although he was noticeably pale, he responded jovially and seemed to enjoy talking with everyone.  

"What's wrong with you?" Ginny asked Hermione, who looked depressed.

"I'm worried about Draco.  He just disappeared yesterday.  He was supposed to meet me in the back of the library and he never showed up."  Ron stopped eating and stared at her.  She blushed furiously.

"Have you talked with him yet?" Ginny asked, ignoring Ron, who was turning red in indignation.  He knew about Hermione's relationship with Draco, but it was on his list of 'Things to Never Mention.'

"He's still missing!" Hermione exclaimed.  "I haven't seen him at all, and now I'm worried.  I asked one of the Slytherins he says I can trust and he told me that Draco went home for the weekend."  She shuddered.  "Do you think I ought to tell Dumbledore."

"I'm sure he's fine," Ron snapped.  "What's wrong with going home for the weekend.  Good riddance, I say."  Hermione glared at him, but rolled her eyes instead of bothering to answer.

"You're such a prat, Ron," Ginny said.  Ron continued to look indignant, an expression he was rather fond of.  Ginny turned her attention away from her brother when someone tapped Harry on the head.

"May I sit here?" Eliza asked, pointing to the free seat next to Harry.

"No, you may not," Ginny said, putting her elbows on the table and unintentionally knocking June's book away.  Eliza looked at her emotionlessly.  Ginny stared back.

Harry sighed.  "Just sit, okay?"  He leaned back and started massaging Ginny's shoulders.  "You really need to calm down."

"Maybe she's PMSing," suggested June, who was sitting on the other side of Ginny.  June had the habit of pretending to read while listening to other people's conversations and would randomly jump in any time she felt she had a worthy comment.

"Shut up," Ginny muttered.  "Not all women PMS, June.  Some of us are almost _normal_," she said sarcastically.

June's eyes widened.  "Ouch."  She went back to her book, a collection of Sam Shepard plays.

"Why do you have to act like that?" Ron demanded from across the table. 

"Leave her alone," Harry pleaded.  "She's had a lot to deal with.  It's been really crazy here lately."

"She's had a lot to deal with?  _I've_ had a lot to deal with too, and you don't see me taking it out on everybody who happens to cross my path.  I lost a brother too.  I damn near lost my best friend.  You haven't got any right to make everybody else's life miserable-"

"You piece of crap!" Ginny spat vehemently.  She lunged across the table, her nails outstretched like claws, but Harry held onto to her waist and pulled her back so sharply she fell in his lap.

He put his arms around her and didn't let go.  "Just calm down, both of you.  You're both super-emotional right now because your dad's back.  Just cool it, okay?"

Ginny laughed joylessly.  "Really?  And what about you?  Are you un-emotional?  The epitome of the fearless hero?  Thou Savior of the Wizarding World!  Why can't we be more like you, and be beaten and neglected our entire lives and not even blink?"

"What the hell has gotten into you lately!" Ron shouted.

"Children!"  Professor McGonagall was suddenly beside the table looking displeased.  "What is the meaning of this disturbance?  I should think you would be on your best behavior for today or all days.  Your parents have enough stress without the lot of you acting like five-year-olds.  Miss Weasley, please remove yourself from Mr. Potter's person.  This kind of behavior is intolerable.  I will not have my house embarrass me in front of my colleagues again!  Am I understood?"  Everyone nodded.  "That will be ten points for Miss Weasley for inappropriate violence, ten from Mr. Potter for inappropriate physical behavior, and ten from Mr. Weasley for inappropriate conduct."

"But I haven't done anything!" Ron protested.  

"You were shouting loud enough for the entire school to hear you.  Now all of you settle down before I take even more!"  They sunk into their seats, eyes downcast as she stalked away to the staff table.

Harry leaned over and gave Ginny a small peck on the cheek.  She looked surprised.  He wasn't usually so openly affectionate.  "What's wrong Ginny?"  He rubbed her back lightly.

Ginny's lower lip began to tremble [A/N: Yes, CastleRock, that _does_ happen when one cries, you unemotional zombie].  "It's...I'm so sorry."  She took a couple quick, shallow breaths before continuing.  

"It's the book?" Hermione guessed.

Ginny nodded.

"But...the book didn't posses you, too, did it?" Eliza asked, perplexed at Hermione's guess.

Ginny shook her head.  "No..."  She looked away.

Ron looked like he started to understand what was going on.  "Why didn't you tell us?"

"What am I supposed to tell you?" she replied.

"What?  What?  I'm at a loss here," Eliza said.

"The book," Ginny said emphatically.  Eliza stared at her.  "The bloody book!  You'd been reading it since forever – for months – and you never told me a thing.  All this time I could have helped you..."

"Is this about your first year?" June asked.  She could sometimes be a bit slow when it came to other people's emotions.  She claimed it was because she was a Volari and uncertain how to interpret the emotions on human faces, an explanation Llian laughed at.

Ginny nodded.  "I know it's stupid, you couldn't have told me... But I feel betrayed almost.  And then Dumbledore was searching all of you, trying to find the missing book, and nobody even bothered looking at me.  You just sat there in your own misery.  Nobody bothered to think of me sitting there, trapped in my own memories, you were too busy..."  She was crying openly.  Harry pulled her closer and she buried her face in the front of her robe.

"I'm sorry," Eliza said in a small voice.  "You're right, nobody thought of you at all.  I guess it was just a distant memory for all of us."

"It's not for me," Ginny whispered.  She shuddered.  "I still hear him sometimes.  I'll wake up in the middle of the night and feel him watching me, and lay there waiting for him to tell me..."

"Lie," June said suddenly.

"Excuse me?" Eliza asked.

"Isn't it lie?  Lay is for inanimate objects, and lie is for humans.  Right?"  She looked up at the table but found only frowns directed at her.

Ginny ignored her, which Harry thought was probably the kindest thing to do.  "I'm sorry guys.  I keep on making digs at you, Harry, how you hide everything, but I'm just as bad.  All that stuff my first year, and I never told anyone.  I think that was one of the most horrible things about it, being so alone and afraid all the time.  Everything just sat in my head and burned me because I never told anybody what was going on.  I'm the same way now."

"You have a right to keep whatever you want to yourself," Harry said immediately.  "But next time if you need to talk to someone tell us."

Ginny nodded.  "Okay.  But let's finish talking about this some other time.  People are staring at us."   She speared some chicken with her fork and started chomping noisily on it.  Ron, who had already cleared his plate, helped himself to another serving.  June took three more chocolate-chip cookies and dunked them in her milk as she went back to reading.

"It's about me, too, isn't it?" Eliza said, leaning across Harry.

"What?" Ginny asked.

"Me and Harry."  The entire group was silent.  "You're jealous that...well, I guess that we were possessed together.  And you're disgusted with yourself for being jealous.  And you're frustrated because you don't even know what to think."

Ginny clamped her jaw shut.  "We're not talking about this now."

Eliza took the hint and went back to her mashed potatoes.  "Why not?" June asked.  Nobody said anything.  Eliza picked up her plate and went back to the Hufflepuff table.  "Why'd she leave?" June asked.  She looked around.  "Why are you all ignoring me?  Geez, I can take a hint."  She went back to her book.

Hermione started giggling first and Ron and Harry joined in.  Ginny eventually managed a weak smile.  June looked up again.  "What is it this time?" June demanded.

"Comic relief," Hermione gasped.

June frowned and ate another milk-soaked cookie.

"Fleur!" Billy stood up and grinned as he called out.  They all turned to see Professor Delacour make her way down the aisle towards the staff table.  "I thought you were staying with your parents for the rest of the weekend?"

She stopped in the middle of the Great Hall and started singing.  It was a high-pitched, miserable sound, like nails on chalk boards and out-of-tune upright pianos.  Her face turned scaly and inhuman.  Wings ripped out the back of her robes.  The professors were suddenly running everywhere, taking out their wands and shrieking something to the students that couldn't be heard over Fleur's singing.

Students fell to the floor left and right.  

"Stop her!" someone shrieked.

Everything was pandemonium.  Fleur was hypnotizing everybody.

Harry jumped to his feet and cast a Stunning spell.  It bounced off of Fleur and hit a dazed Ron in the face so that he immediately slumped in his seat.  Someone from the staff table was sending curses too, but Harry didn't have time to see who.  Every curse that hit Fleur bounced off.  Meanwhile, more and more students succumbed to unconsciousness.  It was strange, Harry thought, that he wasn't the least bit sleepy.  

A red blur made him turn his head in time to see Ginny launch herself from her chair onto Fleur's back.  She clawed at her face, trying to cover the Veela's mouth.  Fleur threw her off easily and continued singing.  

June outstretched her Volari wings and flew up next to Fleur.  She enveloped her in carmine light and before Harry knew it Fleur was out cold on the floor.  

An eerie silence settled on the room.

"What the-" Harry muttered, looking around.  There were few people still conscious: himself, Ginny, Fred, Billy, Mrs. Weasley, Eliza, Cho, Professor Dumbledore, Professor Snape, Professor Florean, Ahren (the Hufflepuff replacement Seeker), a Ravenclaw third year named Charlotte, two seventh-year Slytherins that he didn't know the names of, and June.

Professor Dumbledore quickly flew past Harry and secured the doors.  He placed strong locking charms on all the doors and windows.  He summoned Fawkes and gave him instructions.  In a burst of fire, the phoenix disappeared.  "Fawkes is going for backup," Dumbledore said calmly.  He turned to watch Snape, who was walking around the hall making sure no one had fainted in a position that obstructed their breathing.

"What the bloody hell's going on here?" Billy shouted out, his eyes wide with fear.

"Miss Delacour has used her Veela powers to hypnotize the hall into sleep," Dumbledore explained.

"I know that!  But why?  And how come we weren't hypnotized?"

Dumbledore looked around.  "There is a small, small percentage of the population that is not able to be hypnotized under any circumstances.  Some may have powers that can block against this, others guard their minds so carefully that nothing can enter it.  Some nonhumans can't be hypnotized, like vampires, Veela, and Volari."  Harry realized this made Draco and June doubly guarded – they were both vampires and nonhuman.  

"But what about people like me?" Eliza asked.  "I don't have any special powers, and I'm not anal about being hypnotized.  How could I have guarded myself?"

Dumbledore looked grave.  "Those who have been completely possessed before automatically set up guards in their mind.  For this reason, Eliza, you can no longer be hypnotized.  Your mind, in a way, has already been compromised and is now impenetrable.  It has to do with your soul and life energy, but I'm afraid we haven't time to discuss it right now."

"Mom, you've been possessed?  And Billy?" Ginny asked.

Mrs. Weasley shook her head.  She was too shaken to speak, so Dumbledore answered for her as she rearranged her unconscious husband to a more comfortable position.  "It is also a trait that one can have a natural talent for, like Florean, and Molly.  I suppose Billy and Fred must have inherited it from her.  I have noticed that the twins always had a bit of extra sparkle when it came to powers of the mind."

"But why Fleur?" Billy asked, kneeling next to his girlfriend's limp body.

"I do not know," Dumbledore said heavily.  "She may not have been acting of her own free will.  It is incredibly difficult to control a Veela; it requires many men and much power, but it can be done."

"We need to get everyone out," Snape growled, joining Florean and Dumbledore at the center of the room.  "How soon will they wake?"

Dumbledore looked pained.  "It may only last a few minutes, but that is still too long.  We don't have any time."

"Any time for what?  Shall I go get Madame Pomphrey?" June offered.

"I'm afraid no one can leave the hall," Dumbledore said.  "Whoever went through such pains to control Fleur surely wouldn't have sent her for no reason.  Unless Miss Delacour was acting alone, Howarts is being attacked."

*          *          *          *          *          *          *          *

[A/N: Credits:

-Did I really forget to mention this before?  "Edan" got him name as an allusion to a song by Samuel Barber called _Promiscuity_, which comes from his _Hermit Songs_.  The song is only one page long, travels between four different notes, and consists of two lines: 

_I do not know with whom Edan will sleep_

_But I do know that fair Edan will not sleep alone_.

Say what you will about this illustrious reference, but I chose it because I thought the name was cool.

-What an amazing coincidence that the majority of un-hypnotizable people just _happen_ to be main characters.  Astounding!  (I myself am one of the whatever percent of people who can't be hypnotized; probably because my skull is too thick for anything to penetrate)

-Is it just me or am I unnecessarily making fun of myself?  What's with the June bashing?  Maybe I'm feeling self-deprecatory.  Then again, when am I not?]


	55. Ceremony

[A/N: I can't even begin to say how good it is to be back.  Fanfic is an excellent way to blow off schoolwork when it starts to get to you.]

55. Ceremony 

"Wash your hands afterwards," Llian cautioned, "or the calluna will start to affect you too."

Neville nodded and continued to rub the paste on Llian's bare back.  A slight breeze rustled through their hair, but it felt nice against the warmth from the sun.  The Volari were already congregating near the cliffs.  Llian had already been here two days, but the gathering was going to be this afternoon.  

"Are you nervous?" Neville asked.

"Not really.  I have what I have to say, and there's not really anything I can do to change their minds.  They'll decide on their own.  We're just here to deliver a message.  Ei!"

"What?"

"That's my tickle spot."

"Here?"  Neville poked the small of his back again and Llian jumped.

"Stop that or I'll curse you."

Neville chuckled.  "I'm done."  He washed his hands in the bowl of water beside Llian.  "I don't like this, putting all this paste crap on you.  It looks gross.  Are you sure it's safe?"

Llian rolled his eyes.  "It's not like I'm snorting crack or anything.  Just chill."

"Crack?  What's a snorting crack?"

"Nothing."  He stood and put back on his shirt.  It was too hot to wear full robes, but he was still dressed nicely.  As if the Volari would give a hoot what he wore, he thought.  A shadow above made him turn his head to see Tangur approaching.  The man landed a few feet away.  

"Have you seen Mrs. Berg?" Tangur asked.

Llian shrugged.  "I'm not sure.  I think she went poking around through the bushes over there." 

Tangur scanned the hills.  "That woman!  I swear, she's like a ferret, she gets into everything."

Llian laughed.  "She's just curious.  A healthy curiosity."

Tangur snorted.  "I'll strangle her myself if she doesn't contain herself better."  Llian watched him take off into the air to continue searching for Carol.

Tangur was in his late twenties, but the best of friends with Carol Berg, the researcher.  He had traveled the world, living among humans in a way most uncommon for his species.  According to Benford, he spoke ten different languages fluently, and knew enough of five more to get by.  Although he still had a strange accent, he spoke English better than some students who were born in English speaking households.  Or, at least he had better grammar.  He and his sister Malia were something of oddballs for the Volari.  They were accepted back into the community whenever they flew home, but no one concerned themselves with the two.  It was as if they didn't fully exist to the rest of the Volari.

Llian turned when he heard a dry cough behind him.  Benford was announcing his arrival.  "Are you ready?" he asked.  Llian nodded.  "You remember what to say?"

"Does it even matter?  You're going to change what I say anyway to suit your own needs.  If you went to Hogwarts you'd have been in Slytherin."

"I _did_ go to Hogwarts," Benford informed him, "and I was in Ravenclaw, I'll have you know.  But I take it as a compliment that you could mistake me for a Slytherin."  He winked.

"But you will be editing what I say," Llian pressed.

"There are some Volari who understand English," Benford reminded him. 

"It doesn't matter what the rest of them hear, only what the Elders hear."

"Fine, I _may_...rearrange some of your wording to best suit our needs.  How heavily I edit your words depends on what you say, young sir."  He raised his bushy white eyebrows.

"Meaning you can recite poetry for all he cares," Neville translated.  Llian grinned while Benford occupied himself by looking indignant.

Llian spotted Carol and Tangur approaching.  Carol was so short that her Volari friend towered over her.  "I found her trying to catch a puff adder," Tangur explained.

"I wasn't trying to catch it, I was just looking," Carol retorted.  "Where is your sister; she's the one who would like to catch it."

"Malia?  Hopefully far away from you.  You two are bad for each other."  Llian silently disagreed – Malia was by nature a serious young woman, and Carol's giddiness was sometimes enough to draw her out of her shell.  "Are you ready?" Tangur asked Llian, who had stood.

Llian nodded.  "I guess so."

Having nothing left to say, they walked towards the cliff in silence.  Llian was anxious about what was going to happen.  It would be his first real visions.  He could feel the tickle of the calluna root on his back, already beginning to affect him slightly.  Within ten minutes he would be dizzy, and then the Ceremony would start.  He had promised June, when he left, that he would never, never use the calluna.  The drug had been forced on her thousands of times since she was declared a Haran at the age of five.  Although she didn't have any memories of that time, she had read all her journals and kept an instinctual dislike for it.  Llian had readily agreed, but had promised himself, in the back of his head, that he would do whatever it took to convince the Volari to join them.

Coming here had been like coming home.  He had been here only two days already and he already felt like he belonged.  He found people who were related to him in blood, and, more importantly, in spirit.  It wasn't even a question of whether he would come back here after Hogwarts – he belonged here.  Of course, he wouldn't move here completely, his home would always be with Papa and June, but it wasn't a place he would be able to forget.

He saw a swarm of colors before him.  His vision was already starting to blur – it was the wings he was seeing, hundred of wings.  "Neville," he gasped.  "Help me walk."  Suddenly he felt weak.  But Neville was right there, holding on to his arm.  "Thanks," he muttered.

The buzz that surrounded the area dissipated as the Volari's voices died away.  Llian and his small group walked through them to the fire in the middle, where the Elders sat.  The oldest one, a tall lady with white hair, stood slightly apart from the rest.  It was to her that Llian outstretched his wings.  Bowing was a sign of weakness; the Volari used their wings to communicate, as Ava's journals detailed.  He hoped he was doing it right.

"Llian," she said, stretching out her own wings in return.

"Llian, Llian," the rest of the group muttered.  She had greeted him with his name – if she hadn't, the group wouldn't recognize him as a person and they would ignore him until he left, or failing that would be driven off.  If she had failed to recognize him he and his friends would be fair game to any Volari who bore a grudge against humans.  

Llian felt better, lighter somehow, now that the greeting was over.  He began to talk, exactly as he had been instructed.  He told her of Voldemort's treachery, about his plans to kill all non-human sentient beings.  Her face remained impassive as she listened.  Although Benford was the one translating Llian's words into a language she could understand, she directed her gaze at Llian.  He finished what he had to say and retreated back to where Neville stood.

She the spoke to Benford.  Llian waited patiently while they conversed, becoming more and more dizzy.  His head fell back and he looked up into the sky at the stars.  Stars?  It was the middle of the afternoon; there shouldn't be stars up there.  The calluna must give me extraordinary sight, he thought hazily.

"Llian," Carol whispered in his ear, grabbing hold of his hand.  "Are you going to be okay?  Did I give you too much?"

"Fine."

"You don't look so hot."  He didn't respond.  "Look, I know it seems important, but you don't have to do this.  Being a Haran is enough.  It'll be harder, but it's not worth risking your health."

"I'll be fine," Llian whispered back.  He managed to find the strength to hold his head upright again.  It was worth the risk, even if this made him sick for a year.  He had June's determination, a runner's determination – he wasn't going to stop for anything.

There was more talk but Llian was no longer aware of time.  He stood outside of it all.  Some moments seemed to take forever, others passed in a fraction of a second.  He was no longer aware of what was happening.  One second Carol was beside him, the next she was standing tall and proud between Tangur and Malia, greeting the Elders.  Neville moved too.  At one point, Llian looked to the right to find his best friend supporting his right arm, but turned his head to the left to see that Neville was also supporting that side.  Maybe he had turned his head the same way twice.  He did it again and received the same results.  Neville was simultaneously on both sides.  Strange.

Suddenly Benford turned towards him.  He realized that the entire area was silent.  They were waiting for him.  Llian knew what to do, and after a motion from the Elder he approached the fire and braced himself.  Neville remained beside him, supporting his weight.  It was starting to irk him, actually.  Neville held tightly onto his arm as if he couldn't even walk by himself.  He thinks I'm drunk or something, Llian thought.  But he was absolutely sure he was walking perfectly straight.  But why did his human friends appear so concerned?

He knelt by the fire and looked back at the Elders one final time.  The leader stood apart, watching him with her dark eyes.  There was excitement written onto her face.  She was happy – Llian's dazed state of mind meant the paste was working, and that meant visions.  They would sit there and let him do this to himself?  It was mind-boggling.  They would base their future course of action, their entire lives on what Llian could should them.  Instead of making decisions themselves they were relying on arbitrary...

But he was too dizzy to finish the thought.  There was nothing left to think about now.  He knew now why June hadn't wanted him to use the calluna root.  He should have tried to produce visions on his own first, but he had been so certain he would fail.  He felt, deep inside, that this was going to hurt him much, much more than he had anticipated.  He was filled with a sudden hatred for them all.  He felt exposed and betrayed.  Why hadn't anyone stopped him?

He stared into the fire, and summoned his Volari magic.  Images, auditory hallucinations, odious smells overwhelmed him.  He projected it all into the fire, which burst up twenty feet in the air, so that the entire group could see.  Suddenly, Llian wasn't a person anymore, he was a vessel.  Waves of power and pain rushed through him.  He became the visions:

_Hogwarts stood in the middle of a large grey cloud.  The sky swirled above the castle like cotton candy.  Llian found himself flying closer until he was pressed up against the window of the Great Hall.  There was chaos within.  Blood coated the window.  The floor was littered with bodies.  Bars made of wood grew over the inside of the window, blocking him out and the people in.  The walls reached out and sucked in his vision._

_He was stumbling through rocks and brush.  A figure appeared before him, at the end of a path.  It was a...lizard?  A man with scales and reptilian eyes that glowed.  He ran, but Llian followed him.  The lizard scampered up a tree, but Llian stopped underneath and peered up into the branches.  He saw its eyes again, and then one second later the knife was flying straight for his throat._

_Giant birds flew through the sky.  No, Volari.  They approached a bright green light that pulsed in rhythm to his heartbeat.  He willed himself closer.  Suddenly he was flying alongside them.  He couldn't make out their faces – they were all strangers, or maybe friends, but he couldn't tell for sure.  They were flying over an indeterminate forest.  But then he saw a break in the trees ahead – a giant gap consisting of broken boulders that seemed to stretch for miles.  He knew this place!  This was the battlefields of the wizarding war thousands of years ago!  This meant that they were in __England__, and the Volari were coming to __England__!  He was suddenly afraid that something else would happen to dissuade them from coming.  He wished the visions would end right now, but no, that wouldn't be fair.  They should know as much as possible about what lay ahead._

_As if the visions were sentient beings listening to his thoughts, the scene changed.  Llian was running again, towards safety, towards a bright violet light.  He reached out for it, trying to draw it closer to him.  Neville was panting behind him.  He was almost there when he realized he was alone.  He stopped and found that Neville had stopped ten feet ago.  "What is it?" he tried to ask, but the visions wouldn't allow for speech, only thought.  Neville looked sadly ahead, and then behind him.  He turned around and walked the other way.  "Neville!" Llian screamed in his head.  "Don't go that way!  Please!"  But Neville left him all alone.  His ears rang with betrayal and loss.  He tried to understand more, what was happening, but all he could sense was a metal coldness closing around his chest._

_He was at Hogwarts again.  Or was he?  Hogwarts was there, but it was only it's image, not the castle itself.  He couldn't make sense of it.  What did it mean?  Hogwarts in another dimension, maybe.  It was crazy.  He was beginning to see why Eliza could be so skeptical about visions sometimes.  Focus here, he commanded of himself.  There was a Volari lying on the ground – June!  He couldn't see her face, but her wings were that same distinct carmine he had grown up with.  She was bleeding.  No, that wasn't supposed to be blood.  He was getting a bit better at understanding the visions – none of them were real.  They were all metaphors.  The blood was...her magic!  He could feel its pulsing from her.  Her magic flowed out, out, out, towards a circle of light beside her.  A chill ran through him when he realized that she was running out.  Part of her was empty, where her magic was leaving.  "Stop it, June!"  He tried to shake her awake, but she was either unable or unwilling to listen.  Her magic continued to leave her.  He tried to block its path – without magic, a Volari could be weakened to the point of death.  But she kept on filling up the circle with more and more light, and as the last bit of magic left her body, she shuddered and then the light overwhelmed his vision._

_Stupid!  Was that how June was going to die, draining away her own magic?  For what?  There were powerful sources of magic elsewhere, in the earth and in objects themselves.  Llian was suddenly determined to prevent what he had seen.  He didn't know when it would happen, or what the circumstances would be, but he would stop her, even if it bloody killed him._

_His ears burning, his back was itchy.  He reached out to scratch himself but couldn't find his hands.  Where were they?  Where was he?  A coldness in the pit of his stomach gave a huge lurch and he was retching into nothingness, his stomach burning, burning, burning_

_Fire fire fire fire fire fire fire fire fire fire fire fire fire fire fire fire fire fire fire fire fire fire fire fire fire fire fire fire fire fire fire fire fire fire fire fire fire fire fire fire fire fire fire fire fire fire fire fire fire fire fire fire fire fire fire fire fire fire fire fire fire fire fire fire fire fire fire fire fire fire fire fire fire fire fire fire fire fire fire fire fire fire fire fire fire fire fire fire fire fire fire fire fire fire fire fire fire fire fire fire fire fire fire fire...._

*          *          *          *          *          *          *          *          *          *

He awoke to Neville's snoring.  With a groan, he opened his eyes only to be blinded by bright light.  "Nev..." he said weakly.  The snoring continued.  He knew it was Neville's snoring because he had slept in the same tent with him for that past few weeks.  He turned onto his side.  His skin was burning – it felt like it was stretched tight and peeling off with each movement.  His eyes had sharp nettles in them.  He licked his flaky lips.  He could feel his fangs grown underneath his lip.  

He reached out for his bag, which was lying several feet away, but didn't have the strength to pull himself nearer.  He needed the potion to make the side effects of vampirism diminish.  The sun would kill him.  Not all at once, but he felt like he was already dying.  

A shadow blocked the sun's light from his face.  "Looking for this?" asked Carol's voice.  She held something in her hand.  "Neville's been staying up day and night looking after you.  Traditionally the Haran are left by themselves in the wilderness to recuperate, but Neville wouldn't leave you by yourself.  I think they overlooked it because they figured him to be some sort of human servant to you."  

She knelt down and cradled Llian's head while feeding him the contents of the vial.  It was the potion he had been looking for desperately.  He tried to mutter thanks, but his words were incomprehensible.  "Neville told me that you'd run out of this stuff sometime today, just before he fell asleep a couple hours after midnight.  He wouldn't consent to leaving you unwatched.  You have quite a dedicated friend."

Llian nodded wordlessly.  

"So what is this potion's for?  Is it a medication?"

Llian didn't really know how to respond to that, so he simply nodded.  He feigned tiredness by closing his eyes again and pretending to fall into a light sleep.  He jerked awake several hours later to realize he probably hadn't been pretending at all – he was more tired than any 10k race had made him.

This time Neville was up.  The sun was farther down.  Llian was able, with some help, to sit up and take in his surroundings this time.  He was in a clearing in the middle of a sort of thin forest, lying on top of his sleeping bag.  There was nothing blocking the sun for yards around him.  It was warm, but he found the sensation pleasant.  "It feels nice here," Llian muttered, after Neville had passed him some water from a canteen.  

"I should hope so.  They picked it out especially for you."

"Huh?"

"I don't know, it was this big deal after the ceremony, finding the perfect recovery spot for you."

"Ava never wrote anything about that in her journals."  June, he thought silently.

"Well, she wouldn't have to – after they found a spot for her she didn't need any other.  Carol explained it to me, kind of.  It has something to do with Strength Grounding.  Something about the sun being yours.  So they found a sunny spot.  It's a bit too warm, if you ask me."

Llian sniffed.  "Well, it's not the bloody middle of winter like in England, is it?"

Neville shrugged.  "But then again, I've got more...flubber than you do, so it makes me warmer."

"Flubber?"

"Yeah.  June says it's a word."

"And you're trusting June because...?"

Neville shook his head.  "I didn't know the sun was your element.  I didn't even know it _was_ an element."

Llian laughed.  "Not element in the Muggle chemistry way, or element in the transfiguration sense – it's similar to when someone's really good at something, and you'd say, They're in their element.  Get it?"

"I guess.  My element's probably mud."

Llian grinned.  "Is that why you get along with June so well?"

"What, because mud...hardens into rock?"

Llian shook his head.  "Nevermind."

"How do you find your element?"

Llian shrugged.  "Dunno.  I didn't even know what mine was before this."

"Well it makes sense," Neville said.  "I mean, you're always looking on the _bright_ side of things."

"Ha, ha," Llian said.  He was still physically weak, but being with Neville gave him some other kind of strength, almost a strength of spirit.  "I think you're good for my health, Nev."

"Well, you're bad for mine."  He glanced down at his legs sprawled out in front of him.  "You know, I was thinking about an hour ago how I couldn't wait to get back to Hogwarts so I could have Madame Pomphrey weigh me."

Llian snorted.  "You're pathetic."

"And if you snort one more time you'll turn into a poppu."

"A what?"

"A fairy breaded with a pig."

"Really?"

"No, they're not real, just a myth."

"Oh."  Llian pretended to look disappointed.  "Doesn't it feel like the journey's over?"

"Yes.  Strange, isn't it?  I mean, technically we're only a little past halfway done, but it feels much shorter."

"We still have to get back to Hogwarts.  But yeah, I know what you mean.  We've done what we came here to do."  He paused.  "Have the Elders said anything?"

Neville shook his head.  "They've been debating your visions for a couple days now.  There were some contradictory images.  But it's hard to tell which ones were warnings of what would happen if the Volari don't participate, and which were warnings of what would happen to them if they did."

"How...how long did the ceremony last?"

"Long?  Merlin, it lasted the entire night.  I don't know how in the world they can remember so many images.  It was one thing after another.  It was tiring just looking at it."  He suddenly reached down into his backpack and took out some bread and various plants.  Llian looked at them warily.  "Go on, eat them.  Even if you don't feel hungry it'll make you better."  Llian picked up a leaf and smelled it.  "They're all edible.  This one is a bit sour," he pointed to a dark leaf, "but you should eat all of it, it'll give you back your energy."

Llian shrugged and took the meal.

"Maybe tomorrow you can eat some stew or something.  Carol said we shouldn't feed you anything too heavy."

"How long do you think it will take the Volari to decide?"

A dark look crossed Neville's face.  "It doesn't matter to us," he said bitterly.  "After going through all of that, Benford's not even allowing us to stay to see what they decide."

"What?!"

"It was prearranged.  We're going straight back to Hogwarts, but Benford is going to stay, and Carol, too, once she drops us back off at the Auror's camp."

"That's bullshit!  What if they want to talk to me?"

Neville bit his lip.  "Benford's been kind of sketchy over whether you'll be staying here or not, so he thinks you should leave as soon as possible."

"Sounds fishy," he muttered.

"Damn right it does," Neville agreed.  "But he says you have to be quite deliberate in insisting that you're leaving of your own accord, to protect Hogwarts for the Volari."

"He wants me to be the leader, then, doesn't he?  The first one to pitch in my support for the humans.  _That's_ why he's been trying to make it sound like I was considering staying here."

Neville shrugged, even though he still looked angry.  "Well, it's working.  There's already some talk among the younger Volari that if you leave they'll follow you even if the Elders don't agree."

"Mhhh...I wonder if the younger ones are reaching out farther than their ancestors did.  Do you think it's a trend?  From Ava's journal, it sounded like no body left the group for the outside world, and now it's not common, but it's not completely uncommon either."  He sighed and lied back down.

Neville thumped him on the chest.  "Eat!" he commanded.  Llian groaned and propped himself up on his elbows to eat some of the bread, and the weird plants. 

"Are you even going to tell me what these things are?"

Neville grinned.  "What you don't know won't hurt you.  Are I or are I not a herbology expert?"

"It's not that I doubt you, I just don't trust you."  Neville stuck out his tongue.  The sour leaves in Llian's mouth suddenly tasted bitter; it was the strangest sensation.  He wasn't sure if he was going to throw up or not.  He shoved what was left back into Neville's hands.

"You know, you don't look so good," Neville commented.  

"It's because I'm sunburned."

Neville chuckled.  "Sorry about that.  I told Carol to give you the potion, but she waited until you woke up.  I guess it's my fault for not making sure she knew to give it to you at daybreak whether you were awake or not.  I guess the pain must have woken you up."  Llian didn't say anything.  "Well, I rubbed some aloe on your exposed skin.  It does feel better doesn't it?"

He still felt a bit stretched out, but at least his skin was cracking with every move.  "Yeah, it's better."

"I can move you out the sun," Neville offered anxiously.

"Naw, that's alright.  The potion neutralizes the sun's power over me."  He frowned.  "But I guess I should spend at least some time in the shade.  Whoa!"  Neville had picked him up and was carrying him into the forest.  He put him down underneath the shade.  "Uh, thanks."  Neville went back to retrieve the sleeping bag and backpack.

"No problem," he said when he came back.  "Is there anything else you need?"

"No."

"Then go to sleep."

"I don't want to."

Neville glared at him.  "Sleep or I'll hex you into unconsciousness," he said in a monotone.  He looked ready to carry out his threat.

"Fine," Llian muttered.  He stretched out on his sleeping bag and was asleep in less than five minutes.

*          *          *          *          *          *          *          *          *          *          *          *

There had been surprisingly less trouble with leaving than Llian had anticipated.  As they walked out of the settlement, most of the Volari ignored him, going on with their own lives.  Only the children playing at the edge of town laughed and waved to him.  He smiled and waved back.  There were less Volari escorting them this time – only Malia and Tangur, Carol's good friends.  Llian felt happier being with a smaller group, especially now that the sneaky Benford was still negotiating with the Elders.

They set out along the vast grass plain between the cliffs and the thin forest Llian had healed in.  On the whole, Llian was demoralized about the entire trip.  He had shared his soul with the entire Volari settlement, and for what?  He had thought himself special; it was a vain thought, but true – he was a Haran, someone to be reckoned with.  But in the end, he was just a weak little boy, and what's more, he had been used by the adults he had trusted.

He supposed that was what he was hurt about the most.  He had been used, that was the entire reason of bringing him along.  Before they left Hogwarts, he had thought he was doing something adventurous and daring and noble.  But he was simply the wild card Dumbledore had had up his sleeve.  He wondered if he ever really had any choice in the first place.  He remembered how Papa became madder and madder as Dumbledore got further into his spiel.  Llian had been on the edge of his seat in anticipation, waiting for the Headmaster to tell him more, and was annoyed at the time that Papa was making a big deal over nothing.  Now he began to see it from another perspective – everything Dumbledore had said was calculated to draw Llian in.  

He felt heat rise through his body when he thought of Dumbledore's words.  The old man had played him perfectly, knowing exactly what to tell him.  That was why Papa had been so adamant at first that Llian think carefully and make sure it was _his own_ decision.  But the most annoying part about it was that he couldn't complain – technically, he had chosen of his own free will.  Although it was admittedly an immature teenage will.

He sighed and walked a little faster, passing Tangur and Carol, who were talking, to catch up with Neville.  He was about to explain his feelings to Neville, but Neville spoke first.  "I feel useless," he said quietly.  

Llian had heard such sentiments come from Neville (and June) quite frequently, but he was surprised to hear Neville say the same things now out of context of school.  "Why?"

Neville sighed.  "What was the point of my coming?  What did I do?  Nothing.  All I did was keep you company; and now I'm going to be so far behind in my schoolwork.  I'll never pass any O.W.L.'s now!"

"You always said you wouldn't pass even when you were attending class normally.  This is much more important than the O.W.L.s.  If we don't get more help, we could loose this war..."

"I just think I would have been more useful at Hogwarts.  I probably slowed down everyone on the way here, and I'll do the same going back."

"Bull!  You kept up with everything.  You were just in as good shape as everyone else."  Part of him didn't feel like dealing with Neville, but the other half was glad that Neville helped him put his own complaints into perspective.  "Neither one of us really had much choice in going anyway."  Neville was about to protest, but Llian cut him off.  "I went because Dumbledore practically commanded me to; you went because Florean sent you, and thus Dumbledore.  How could either of us have refused?"

"But why do I feel so depressed?"

Llian frowned.  "I don't know.  I was feeling the same way, but I think...I think I just feel used, by Dumbledore and his cronies."

Neville looked at Llian disapprovingly.

"Look, the Headmaster isn't God or anything, he's only human; sometimes he has to sacrifice some people to get what he wants.  He was willing to risk our lives in hopes that we could gather Volari participation.  And look at Harry, he's been sacrificing him forever."

"What are you talking about?  Sacrificing?  That's absurd."

"Why else has he been leaving Harry with the Dursleys.  He _knows_ they treat him like crap, but he wouldn't do anything about it.  What's more, everyone knows that he knows."  As he said it, the idea began to make more and more sense to Llian.

"But _why_ would Dumbledore intentionally do something like that to Harry?"

"He's playing out his cards.  Harry was destined to be powerful – look at his parents, and Trelawny's prediction.  He wanted Harry to be completely self-sufficient.  Like Ender in Orson Scott Card's _Ender's Game_.  He needed someone who would always know, deep down inside, that the only person he would be able to truly count on would be himself.  And it worked.  Every time something's wrong with Harry, does he ever run for help?  Did he tell any teachers that he was hearing a voice in the walls his second year, or tell any of them besides Lockhart that he knew where the Chamber of Secrets was?  Has he ever gone to any adults for help?"  Llian had heard it all second-hand from Ginny, but he was sure that most of what he was saying was correct.

"It still doesn't make any sense.  What if Harry had turned out to be another Voldemort?  What if he had turned bad from the Dursley's abusing him or something?  There's so many ways that could go wrong when you're dealing with another person's life."

"Well, Dumbledore's willing to make some sacrifices.  There's always a risk with everything," he said bitterly.  

Neville stared at him for a long time.  Llian stared back, impressed that his friend could stare and walk at the same time.  When they had gone for almost half a minute and Neville still hadn't tripped, Llian tried to break him out of his trance.  "What?" he snapped.

"It hurt you, didn't it?  The ceremony hurt you a lot more than you've admitted, maybe even to yourself.  I think it really hurt you."

"And you win the award for excellent perception!" Llian shouted, flinging his arms wide open.  Neville looked upset.  "Look, I'm sorry."  They kept on walking.  "I just...can I talk to you about it later?"

"Sure," Neville promised, and the topic was dropped.

It wasn't that Llian didn't want to talk about it – he wanted to talk and talk and talk and spill all the images and horrors in his head out onto the ground.  He pictured all the vile stored in his occipital lobes pouring out through his eyes, black and sticky.  He wanted to talk, but not to Neville, not yet.

He needed to talk to Edan first.

Edan.

The name felt like silk on his tongue.  He whispered it silently.  He couldn't wait until he could be back in Edan's arms.  He felt safer there than anywhere.  He was beyond caring whether it was true love or not – all he knew was that Edan understood him, and that was all that mattered.

A shadow passed overhead.  They looked up to see Malia.  She landed close to them, and Carol and Tangur quickly drew closer to hear what she had to say.  "They've moved almost a mile to the north," she said, pointing in that direction.  

Carol sighed.  "Let's take a short break.  We don't want poor Llian to get tired out, now do we?"  She sat down heavily on the ground and rummaged through her backpack for water.

Llian wasn't tired at all, but Carol the most out of shape, so he figured she needed the rest.  He sat next to her.  Or maybe she was just being thoughtful – who knew how tired he really was?  He was too numb to be able to tell by himself.

*          *          *          *          *          *          *          *          *          *          *          *

"Should we leave them here?" Tangur asked jokingly once they reached the top of a rocky hill.  They were within view of the campsite.  Around a burning fire were various packs and equipment.  They could just barely make out a couple people sleeping on the ground.  Llian chuckled – they must have been whoever Moody had put on night guard duty.

"Don't be ridiculous," Carol said.  "It's only a bit more before we can dump the brats off.  I suppose we can manage that long."  She gave Llian and Neville a sloppy grin.  Llian was amused by her bluntness.  In truth, the three adults _were_ antsy to go back to the Volari.

They walked back down the hill and could no longer see the campsite.  Neville became considerably more cheery, even trying to trip Tangur once.  Malia was taking the lead, as always, stepping much lighter than her brother who stomped through the bushes.  Suddenly she stopped, her back straight and tense.

"What is it, dearie?" Carol asked.

"I smell blood."  

Llian shivered.  He glanced beside him to see that Neville's face to see horror mirrored there.

Tangur stepped up next to his sister and sniffed the air.  "Mhh, I smell it, too.  Too bad I'm a vegetarian."

"You're not a vegetarian," Malia said, continuing to walk. 

"Wait a second!  You smelled blood – doesn't this warrant further concern?" Llian asked sarcastically.

Tangur laughed.  "Wow, Moody really has been getting to them."

"I told you so," Carol said.

"It's not human blood," Malia said evenly.  If she were a more expressive person, she would have rolled her eyes.  "It's...."

"A kangaroo!" Tangur shouted.

This time Malia _did_ roll her eyes.  "No, something smaller.  Some kind of marsupial creature."

"Probably a numbat.  Who's ready for dinner?"

Malia ignored him.  

Llian still felt random tingles down his arms.  They only intensified as they neared the campsite.  He started to feel a bit nauseous.

"We'd better get there quickly," Neville said suddenly.  "Llian looks like he's about to die."

Llian bit his lip.  "Do I really look that bad?"

Malia glanced back at him.  "Yes," she answered in a way that settled the question.

"I don't feel so hot."

"Don't be afraid to let us know if you need to stop.  If you feel too bad Tangur won't mind carrying you," Carol said kindly.

"I'll be fine," Llian said quickly.  He probably was about to faint.  That would be rich, he thought.  Almost there, wait to faint until later.  Suddenly he started laughing.  "Neville!  If we were in a horror movie you would have doomed me!"

"Huh?"

"You just said I looked like I was about to die.  Like the guy in one of the  Friday the Thirteenth movies who said 'This bottle will be the death of me,' and then Jason came out and mutilated his body with the same bottle?"  He started giggling.  He was having so much fun he didn't even notice until a good half a minute later that he was moving.  "Whuh-"

Tangur was holding him like a giant baby, and the group had continued walking.

"Ah, cuh-mon, put me duh-down."

Tangur looked down at him and smiled as if he were a little infant.  "You'd better rest when we get there," he said.

"He'll rest anyway.  Look at him, he's delirious and half-unconscious," Malia commented.

Llian leaned his head against Tangur's strong chest and was covered by a blanket of darkness.  He awoke when they stopped.  He lifted his head to find that the group was waiting within sight of the camp, but had gone no further.  It remained about a football field length away.  Malia, he saw, was flying towards the campsite.

"What's going on?" Llian asked.

"Something smells wrong," Tangur answered.  He didn't put Llian down.

"Blood?" Llian mumbled. 

"No, no blood.  Just...an off-ness, I guess.  Malia's checking it out."  He sighed.  "Everything was fine when I flew down here earlier this morning."

"If something's wrong, you guys know what to do," Carol whispered in Tangur's ear.

Neville was too far away to hear, but Llian heard it perfectly.  "What, what's he, they gonna do?"  His words were less slurred, but still a bit incomprehensible.  

"Get the heck out of here," Tangur answered.

"Well, you guys can fly!  And so can I."

Carol and Tangur exchanged a look.  "You're not doing any flying, child; Tangur's going to have to carry you."

Llian frowned.  "But I can fly, and carry Neville."  They ignored him.  "Wait, you're going to take Neville and me away, aren't you?  And leave Carol?  No way!"

"Stop it, guys!  You're making me nervous," Neville said.  "Probably nothing's wrong.  Let's just see how it goes."

Llian blew a raspberry.  "Maybe somebody farted!"  He was glad that time that they ignored him.  He twisted his head around again and saw that Malia was swiftly flying back.

She landed next to Carol.  "They're dead, three of them," she said.  "No blood, no sign of a struggle, just dead.  Probably the Killing Curse.  No one else was in sight."  She glanced around.  The landscape had few trees, but there were still plenty of places to hide between the rubble of rocks and bushes.  "There are more trees the way we came, so avoid those," she told Tangur.  "They-"

She fell down onto the ground, a knife buried in her throat.  It had came at her so quickly that Llian hadn't even seen it until she was already falling.  Without a second thought, Tangur took off into the air, Llian still cradled in his arms.  "No!" Llian screamed, trying to loosen Tangur's grasp.  "Let go!"  Tangur kept on rising.  He was flying slower than normal because of Llian's weight.  "Neville!  What are you doing?  You're leaving behind your own fucking sister!  You traitor!"

Tangur's face twisted into a mask of agony.  "She's dead," he said, his voice cracking.  "I can't do anything for her, but I can save us."

"We could have stayed and fought!"

"Don't be stupid!" Tangur exclaimed bitterly.  "We don't know how many enemy were there.  The entire place could be surrounded.  It's better to save two lives than none."

Llian continued to struggle.  Tangur made logical sense, but Llian couldn't erase the thought of Neville being overwhelmed by an unseen enemy, the look of betrayal that must have been on his face when his best friend left him in a heartbeat.  He kicked his legs furiously.

"Stop that!  I can't hold on to you and fly at the same time.  Shit!"  Llian hit him the face, and then again.  "I should have stunned you, but I can't while I'm flying.  You're hurting me!"  His flight dropped sharply, but he steadied himself and gained altitude.  "Look, I'm not a strong flier, this is taking all of my energy – stop!"

Llian flung his entire body out of Tangur's arms, and for a second he was in free fall.  Tangur dived after him, but he couldn't fly any faster than Llian was falling.  They hadn't been very far from the ground, and it was quickly approaching.  He grew out his wings and wondered at how much it strained his back to do so.  He was weak, he could feel it in his blood.  Less than ten feet from the ground he straightened out and skimmed along the grass. 

A dull thud made him turn around in shock.  Tangur hadn't been able to turn his downward flight back up in time.  

He kept on flying.  It might take Tangur a couple minutes to recover, but Volari were built to fall from enormous heights without being hurt – their bones were pliable and airy.  

He flew back the way they had come, to the campsite, to Neville.

*          *          *          *          *          *          *          *          *          *          *          *

[A/N: Sigh.  More really important things were supposed to happen during this chapter, but it ended up being too long, so I'm stopping here.  Am I putting in too much explanations or random dialogue?  How do they end up being longer than I anticipate?  Ah, but the next chapter is going to be so freakin' bloody you won't even believe it!  I'm talking enough blood to bathe in!  Oh boy, better prepare yourself now for battle!]


	56. Treachery

[A/N: I apologize for the gruesomely long wait between chapters.  This one is really short, but it's been sitting on my computer for over a week now waiting to be lengthened, and I figured I might as well post what I have.  I also apologize for still apparent lack of blood.  Heh, heh.]

56. Treachery

Llian didn't see Neville at first.  He circled around the campsite, keeping well above the trees, without a glimpse of his friend.  Finally he broadened his search and found him and Carol half a mile away, with several other figures.  He landed warily, not certain what to expect.

Neville's mouth dropped open when he saw Llian land.  "What the hell are you doing?" he shouted.  "Get the bloody hell out of here!"

Llian was confused.  Was Neville in trouble?  He was standing between Quentin Weasley, the Auror, and Gwen.  Carol stood to the side, looking back the way they'd come, towards her lost friends.  He didn't move.  "What?  I came for you, Neville."  Wasn't that the way it was supposed to work?

"You bloody fool!" Gwen fumed.

"Shhh!" Carol tried to calm her.  The middle-aged witch's voice was distant and calm.  "He didn't know any better."

Neville approached Llian, talking slowly and distinctly.  "Go back to the Volari settlement quickly.  You can't stay here, you're in danger."

Llian's mouth flew open.  "_You're_ in danger!  There's a maniac throwing knives from the trees!"

"And he's after _you_!  Whoever it was disappeared as soon as you left – they took off after you.  If they managed to track you they'll probably be back."

"You're putting us all in danger by being here!" said Quentin, rather frantically.  His red hair stood up as if he had been electrocuted.  "Whoever it is'll be back."

"Whoever it is?  You don't even know who's after us?" Llian asked.

"We have our theories," said Gwen, "but we don't know for sure.  There hasn't been any open conflict, just backstabbing."

"Well, we know everyone here is trustworthy.  Whoever it was went off after Llian; we found Gwen and Quentin over here coming from the opposite direction," Carol stated.

"Unless they're working with whoever killed Malia," Neville said, his face set in stone.

"That's always a possibility," Carol said, "but they haven't made a move yet."

"Unless they're using us as bait to draw Llian back," Neville countered.

"This is besides the point," spat Quentin.  "We told you to leave, now go!  Make sure you're out of wand point."

"Can you fly?" Carol asked.  "Are you strong enough?"

"I flew back here," he answered defensively.  A bit clumsily, but he had made it.

"But can you make it back to the Volari?" Carol asked.  "Honestly?"

Llian sighed.  "I doubt it.  I would have to stop...probably twice."  He flexed his wings and winced.  Make that three times.  He pulled his wings back into his body.  They would be useless out and only get in the way.

"Fine, we'll all stick together," Carol said.  Quentin looked ready to burst.  He glared at Llian, as if somehow the Haran had orchestrated the entire catastrophe himself.  "We'll go back and find Moody," she added, starting off without a glance back.

"Wait!" Llian shouted.  "Neville and I have portkeys.  Why don't we all use those to go back to Hogwarts?"

Gwen turned around.  "Take it off!"

"What?"

"The portkeys – both of you take them off and give them to me."  She advanced on both of them.

Llian stepped back involuntarily.  "Why in the world would I do that?  I don't have any reason to."

"Those portkeys have been passed around to half the members of this group.  There's no telling what could have been done to them – we're not going to risk it."

"No way!  I'm not giving it to _you_," Llian said.

Neville clasped his necklace portkey in his hand, looking back and forth between the two.  "Look, none of us know what's going on.  Let's get back to the rest of the group where we can watch out for each other.  Let's just find Moody.  Meanwhile we can keep the portkeys incase we need them."

"But they could be sabotaged!"

"Then we'll only use them if it's already a life or death situation."

Gwen pulled out her wand in a flash.  "Don't be stupid, I can summon them from you."

"I can say the incantation quicker than your magic can reach me," Llian countered.  They glared at each other.

Neville reached out and touched Llian's elbow.  "Look, both of you, we're not getting anywhere.  Llian promise not to use your portkey until we find out more of what's going on; and Gwen, you leave him alone and trust him, okay?"

They finally stopped sending death glares at each other and followed Carol and Quentin into the scrub that lined the clearing.  "Edan checked these out," Llian tried to argue.

Gwen turned around so quickly she was a blur for an instant.  "And where is Edan?  Is he here?  Do you see him?"

"He's not...not..."  Llian pictured Edan's limp body lying besides the campfire.

"He's not dead, you stupid boy," she said heatedly.  "No one knows where he is."

"Shut up!" Quentin suddenly said.  "Where's Aleta and Graff, for that matter?  You can't pin blame on people just because they aren't here."  They both grit their teeth and continued walking.  It was obviously an argument that had been going on for some time between the two.

"Gwen thinks this is Edan's doing," Llian whispered to Neville, "doesn't she?"

Neville looked at him warily, almost tripping over a rock he didn't see.  They had dropped back a few feet and were walking a bit behind Carol and Gwen.  Quentin took up the rear.  "Don't hold it against her," he begged.

Llian knew what Neville was trying to say, but he couldn't stop the heat of hatred from flowing through his chest.  Gwen hated Edan; Llian had to hate Gwen.  "She doesn't trust the portkeys because Edan was the last one to look at them.  And we can't prove her wrong because there's only one way to find out – by using them."

"Or we can give them to her.  She's just as talented as Edan is with portals, remember?"

"I don't trust her."

Neville practically hissed at his friend, "Now is _not_ the time to be acting like a stubborn prick.  This is...this is dangerous.  We could be _killed_."

"I know, but I can't help what I feel."

"I don't care what you feel.  I _feel_ like rolling up into a ball and wishing it would all disappear, but considering the circumstances that would be the stupidest thing I could do!"

"You have to rely on your instincts.  We don't have time to sit around analyzing everything."

Neville snorted.  "And people talk about how cool-headed you are, how you never let emotion flood your reasoning."

"Emotion and reason are interrelated," Llian shot back.  "You can't have one without the other."

Neville jumped and let out a small screech when a figure suddenly appeared beside him.  It was Moody.  Llian could see Neville biting his lip with embarrassment that he had let his guard down so completely as to not even see the man, but Moody didn't pay attention enough to chastise him.

"He's after Llian," he said in a low voice.

"Who is?" Quentin immediately asked.

Moody glanced at Llian.  "Never you mind.  We don't know for certain anyway.  Follow me.  We're meeting Graff."  Without another word he charged back through the scrub, surprisingly nimble for a man with a wooden leg.

"Graff?" Llian asked, confused.  Memories of vague uncertainties flooded through him.  All the small looks Graff had given him, the small signs he had shot towards Aleta when no one else was looking, the mysterious disappearances, and midnight walks when Graff left the group and set out on his own.  "Are you sure he can be trusted."

"You can trust him if you can trust me," Moody said, not slowing down.

Llian stopped so suddenly that Neville almost ran into him.  "Can we trust you?"  

Moody stopped and stared at him.  "What have you gotten up your sleeve, boy?"

"How do we know you're not an imposter taking Polyjuice?"

Moody winced at the bad memories.  Before he could say anything, Graff appeared behind him.

"What was taking so long?" he demanded. 

Llian's wand was instantly in his hand.  "What are you doing here?"

Graff looked over towards Llian as if he was a log lying in the middle of the path.  "What is the little boy saying?"

Llian grit his teeth.  Carol was the one who spoke first.  "I think Moody's paranoia has rubbed off a little too much on Llian.  He's not feeling so hot.  We need to get him somewhere where he can lie down."  Graff nodded and reached out towards Llian.

It happened so fast it was over before Llian knew what he was doing.  Magic flowed through his wand and hit Graff in the chest, knocking him backwards, his mouth open in shock.  Llian hurdled over his body and sprinted into the trees.  He didn't look back; he knew Neville would have the sense to follow.  For a while there were shouts and heavy footsteps, but eventually they fell back and all he could hear behind him was Neville's steady stride.  

After jumping over a dried-up creak, he finally stopped.  He could have gone twice as fast were he in better shape, but Neville was probably sprinting full speed just to keep up with him.

He turned around, ready to discuss what to do next, only to be unexpectedly slapped across the face.  Already disoriented from the numbing fatigue remaining from the Ceremony several days ago, he spun in a half circle and stumbled to the ground.  Neville dropped into a crouch besides him.

"What the bloody hell are you doing?  Why did you stun Graff?  Are you completely insane?  Even if, in a worse case scenario, one of them was the back-stabber, where is it safer to be: out here in the woods by ourselves where anyone can break away from the group and find us or with a group of people who can all watch out for each other?"

Llian's mouth dropped open wordlessly.  This was definitely not the reaction he had been expected.  Something more along the lines of, "Thank you for saving my life."  His cheeks burned.  "If it was so stupid to come out here then why did you follow?"

Neville's face twisted and curled.  "Why do you think?  You're sick, you're not thinking straight, and there's some psycho after you.  I'm the only one who was in good enough shape to keep up with you; I couldn't let you go off by yourself."  He picked up a twig and bitterly started shredding it into pieces.  "I've half a mind to stun you and drag you back there by your hair."

Llian tried to control his breathing.  Not only was he no longer the hero he had supposed himself to be, but he had just wrecked what was left of the party and had also dragged his best friend into the worst of dangers.  "I guess we go back."  He dusted off his backside as he lifted himself off the ground and followed their footprints.

Neville reached out and grabbed his arm.  "Haven't you been listening to Jonathan at all?  Don't walk directly on the footprints, walk over to the side.  We don't know who will be following us.  Geez."

Llian found himself following Neville's lead.  Was he mistaken or was Neville now the one rescuing _him_?  "Since when did you become so confidant?" Llian asked, half angrily.  "When I first met you you would have been scared of a flobberworm."  He winced.  It was a horrible thing to say to his best friend, but it was true.

Neville didn't answer for a while.  "I still am.  Scared, that is."

"I don't believe you.  Neville Longbottom, fearless hero of the Wizarding world."

"I'm scared shitless, okay?  I'm so terrified I don't even know which way is up and which way is down."

Llian looked over at his friend curiously.  "Really?  It doesn't show."

Neville shrugged.  "I'm better at...well, things still scare me, but...nothing really turns out as bad as it seems.  I mean...  You know that book June has, Dance Macabre by Stephen King?  The author says at one point that the reader's imagination of what's lurking behind the door is always worse than what's really out there."

"Oh, I remember that passage.  Something about if the writer shows a ten foot lizard behind the door, the reader will have been dreading a twenty foot one?  Good stuff."  He shook his head.  "Wow, I haven't really thought of June since before the Ceremony.  I haven't been thinking too much about Hogwarts at all this trip."  Much of that was probably influenced by Edan.  He couldn't bear to let thoughts of Cho and Hogwarts float through his mind when he was enjoying being close to the Seer.

They heard someone running towards them on the trail.  "Get down," Neville whispered.

Llian leapt over a bush and crouched down beside his friend.  They peered out between the leaves.  Neville suddenly gripped Llian's shoulder and pointed to where the Hufflepuff had been: his wand lay on the ground several feet away.  The Gryffindor pulled out his wand, ready to summon it, but the footsteps were too close and whoever was out there was in view of the wand.  They would just have to hope that whoever it was passed over it.

They seemed to be out of luck.  The footsteps stopped.  "Whose wand is this?" asked a female voice.

A deep male voice answered, "I think it's one of the boys'."

Behind the bush, the two friends looked at each other simultaneously.  "Jonathan," Llian mouthed to Neville, who nodded.  He started to stand to announce himself, but Neville quickly grasped his arm and held him in place.  "Just wait," Neville breathed in his ear.

"Shit!" the female voice answered.  It sounded like Viola.  "Lost in the woods with bum portkeys, no adults anywhere, a homicidal maniac running after Llian..."

"Shhh, it's okay.  We'll find them."

"And one of them doesn't have a wand.  Looks like Llian's, doesn't it?"

"Mhh.  Carol said that he's a bit out of sorts.  I hope he isn't hurt."

"Neville will take care of him."

"If they're still together."

"Unless I see Neville's body, there're still together."

"I just hope we find them before-"

"Ouch!" Llian shouted out.  Something had bit him on the back of his neck.  "Fucking flies."  He stood up, waving his arms around.  "Why is this place infested with flies?"

"You never cared about flies when you were running," Neville commented, also standing.

Jonathan looked relieved to see them but Viola seemed full of disapproval.  "What the bloody hell did you think you were doing?" she demanded.  "Running off by yourself?  It's more dangerous for everybody to be split up looking for you!  What-"

Jon stopped her and motioned them all forward.  "Come on, we've got to keep moving.  If anything happens, you two make your way back to Gwen.  She'll either check these portkeys or make you new ones.  You two aren't staying here a second longer than possible."

"What if we find Edan?" Llian asked.  

Jon frowned.  "Edan hasn't been verified, and until he is, keep away from him at all costs.  Understand?"  He looked searchingly into Llian's eyes.

Llian looked right back at him without giving any sign of acquiesce.

"Fine," Jon said after a few seconds of silence.  "Let's go."  

Llian followed Jon without complaint, but he stayed back with Viola while Neville walked besides Jon.  Jon leaned over and whispered to Neville several times; from the quick looks Neville cast over his shoulder, Llian was fairly certain that their conversation referred to himself.

Suddenly Jon stopped and held up a hand to hold Neville back.  "It looks funny ahead.  All of you stay here."  He gave a look at his wife, who nodded in silent understanding.  "Take it easy," she said softly to his retreating back.

Llian watched him curiously.  There was a clearing right ahead – they had stopped just at the outskirts of it.  Jon tracked through the dust and weeds on the ground, several times crouching down for closer examination.  "Some one else has been here since the last time was passed through."  Llian squinted at the ground.  He couldn't see how Jon could make any sense of the jumble of footprints and trampled grass.  If June were present, she could trace the magical energies left as residue from whatever wizards had recently passed through.  For not the first time in his life, Llian wished he had June's talent too.  Perhaps if he had been trained properly he would catch a glimpse of the colored auras that June had lived with all her life; but the priority during their early training had always been on developing June's talents, not his.  Not that he was complaining – June certainly needed more help, but he couldn't help feeling a twinge of regret.

Jon disappeared behind some trees at the other end of the clearing.  He heard Neville whisper behind him, "Does Dumbledore know?"

He turned around to find Viola's face completely white, but also strangely calm.  "What are you two talking about?" he asked.

Neville and Viola ignored him.  "How did you find out?" Viola asked, her voice a whisper.

It irked Llian that they were ignoring them.  For a spiteful instant, he felt like going on on his own, leaving everyone behind.  First they treat him like he was incompetent, then like a child, now everyone was ignoring him and talking behind his back – even his own best friend!  How could they expect him to make the right decisions if nobody gave him the correct information – scratch that, nobody had even given him a word about what was going on.  The orders were simple: follow me, leave here, go there...

He didn't hear Neville's answer, but he heard Viola's loud and clear, despite that she was barely making a sound.  "We don't even know if it's a boy or a girl yet – it's too early.  We didn't say anything to Dumbledore because we weren't sure yet.  We didn't want to get our hopes up."

Llian swirled around.  "What?!" he yelped.  "Are you two talking about what I think you're talking about?"

"Not so loud," Neville cautioned, giving him a disapproving look. 

"You're...you're _pregnant_," Llian whispered in awe.  "Holy shit!"

Viola rolled her eyes.  "He says it like it's a disease," she commented to the trees limbs above.

"What are you doing out in the middle of these bloody islands with...with-"

"For Merlin's sake," Neville said.  "Leave her alone.  You think all pregnant women should just stay at home for almost an entire year and do nothing but drink mint tea?"

"No, it's just...weird."  He looked at Viola, who was keeping an eye on where her husband had disappeared.  "So, can we be godfathers?"

"Llian!"  Now Neville was the one who rolled his eyes.  "She just met us, don't be stupid."  The Gryffindor's face turned a splotchy red.

Viola turned back towards them and smiled.  "Actually Jon and I were talking, and both agreed that Llian was an exceedingly cool name."  Llian blinked.  Viola was decades younger than the adults he was used to seeing at Hogwarts, but it was still weird hearing an adult use phrases like "exceedingly cool."

He grinned.  "Awesome.  You should have triplets, and you can name them all Llian.  And they will multiple and inherit the earth."  He threw his head back in mock laughter.

Viola snorted and continued, "We just hope they won't pick up on any of your dubious personality quirks."

"What if it's a girl?" Neville asked.

"We were thinking about Lisa."  She turned back towards the clearing to see Jon emerge from the trees.  He was clutching his stomach, almost bent over double.  "Jon?"

Neville started towards him, but Viola held him back.  Jon looked up at them, his eyes wide and frantic.  He opened his mouth as if about to speak, but instead of words, blood came pouring out.  "Run," he whispered, his voice scratching their ears.

Viola didn't need to be told twice.  She grabbed Llian by one arm and Neville by the other and they took off sprinting instinctually.  Neville ran right behind him, breathing down his neck.  "If you even think about stopped I will hex you into oblivion," Neville whispered.  It sent chills down his spine.  Jonathan was hurt!  How could he possibly be thinking of anything other than stopping.

"What the fuck is wrong with everybody!" he screamed at Viola, who pulled them onwards, away from the clearing.  "Brother abandoning their sisters, friends thinking it's okay to leave each other, you – you!"  Viola ignored him.  "Yes, you up there.  Your husband!  Your fucking husband!  What the hell is wrong with you people?  Let's just leave him to die, shall we?  Let's just leave him to bleed all over the ground, lying there in agony.  What the fuck?  Fuck!  Fuck!"

Neville punching him in the back of the head, making him stumble and almost fall face-first onto the ground.  His vision blurred to whiteness for a second before clearing.  "Shut up Llian.  You have no idea what Viola is going through right now, so don't even start to act all-"

"Act what?  Fuck!  Your _husband_!"

Viola stopped at the top of a hill to catch her breath.  Although her face was blank, her eyes were red.  "I want you to fly to Moody."  She shielded her eyes from the sun and pointed.  "Go almost directly west.  We'll continue north and then west, and meet up with Moody – tell him at 'the usual place.'"

"Fly?  Leave you two behind?"  His eyes burned with anger.

"Look, I know you think you're being brave and doing the right thing by trying to stay behind to help everyone, but the fact is, you're not.  Whoever's out there has made it clear that they are after _you_.  You're the reason people are being killed left and right.  So if you don't mind I'd rather you didn't mock their deaths so self-righteously."  Her words were soft and even, but Llian was rooted by the anger Viola pinned him down with.

"We don't know that he's dead," Neville said softly.

"It's a possibility."

"Yes."  Neville's answer was little more than a sigh.  If Neville and Viola had stayed they might have been able to heal Jon.

"Listen, I know this is hard.  It's scary to go on by yourself, and scary to leave us by ourselves, but the fact is you're putting us in danger by staying.  Someone or something is after _you_, and the sooner you get to Moody and Gwen, the better."

Llian's hands were shaking as he grew out his teal wings.  He could feel the leathery material on his back trembling too.  Viola watched his transformation wordlessly.  Llian knew from watching June transform that it was a beautiful spectacle.  He was sure his eyes were glowing as deeply as his fingernails now were.  "Are you two going back?  For Jon?"  Viola had just said that they would meet him later, but he still had the nagging suspicion.

"Yes," Neville answered immediately.  "We're Healers."

Viola looked like she was about to protest, then nodded.

Llian was suddenly unsure.  "I don't know if I have enough strength to get off the ground, or even above the tree-line."

"Look where we are," Neville said.  

Llian looked.  They were at the top of a hill, the easiest place for a Volari to take flight.  As he stood there soaking in hot beams of sunlight, his wings grew steadier.  He smiled sadly and took off, and in less than a minute was soaring above the trees.

*          *          *          *          *          *          *          *          *          *          *          

[A/N: Sorry LisaViola for injuring your husband.  His fate has not yet been decided.]

.  


	57. The Ardshal

[A/N: I can't even begin to apologize for the embarrassingly long wait between chapters.  You see, I was lazy and it's just…life… 

Brief summary for Hogwarts plotline: Arthur Weasley has just been let out of prison when the public turns against Fudge, again.  Hermione is worried because Draco is missing; there is some dissention among the Gryffindors as Ginny tries to ignore her building jealousy and Harry tries to come to terms with his past and his own violent nature.  Fleur, whether of her own free will or by force, came back early from visiting her family and used her Veela powers to hypnotize the entire hall.  Only the small percentage of people who are un-hypnotizable (if that's a word) are left when June, being a Volari, is able to overpower Fleur.  The Veela is left knocked unconscious and those few who are awake are now locked in the Great Hall awaiting what Dumbledore surmises is an attack on the school.

Remember that Neville and Llian are wandering around near a Volari settlement, where their group of friends has become scattered and estranged, and an anonymous psycho killer just happens to be after Llian.

If you're still with me, you're either very pathetic, very loyal, or, like me, addicted to the world of Harry Potter.  Happy reading!]

57. The Ardshal

"When this day'll be over

 I can hardly tell

But I'd much rather

 Be sitting in hell…"

They stared at her.

"What?" June asked.  "Haven't you ever heard of a poem before?  Spontaneous poetry is good for the soul.  Now, shouldn't we be doing something?"

"Like what?" asked Harry impatiently.  "Battling the forces of evil to save the castle from destruction?"

"Children," Snape said warningly.  June shrugged and looked away but Harry stared back challengingly.

"We must stop this squabbling, and stay calm above all else," said Dumbledore.  "Fawkes will alert the Ministry-"

"They won't be coming," June said suddenly.  She was staring at the cloudless sky reflected on the ceiling.  "I don't know how I know.  I can See something, but I don't know what.  Distraction…attacks…  No one's going to check on the kiddies."

Harry suddenly hissed and grabbed his scar.  "She's right – he's up to something.  I can feel his hatred."

"He's not…" Ginny faltered mid-question.  She looked out the windows fearfully.  She was shivering.

"No, I don't think he's anywhere near here.  I don't know what's out there."

Dumbledore sighed.  "And that is essentially our problem.  We don't know who to expect and from what direction."

"Not who," June answered, still fixated on the ceiling.  "What.  Something made of wood.  Something alive but not breathing."

Everyone looked puzzled, even Dumbledore.  "I wish Hermione were here," Ginny burst out.  "She'd be all over these riddles in a heart beat."

"Wood?" Eliza repeated.  "As in wands?  Someone with a wand like…"  June's living sphinx-feather wand was still very much in her mind.

"Something bigger," June replied.

"A…whatchacallit…a Jabberwock?" Charlotte, the third year Ravenclaw, began to speculate.  She frowned.  "Only that's not the real name, it's something else."

One of the Slytherins snorted.  "Maybe they're sending an army of wood nymphs."

"Not too far off," June murmured. 

Harry sighed impatiently.  The 'grown-ups' quickly drew away and began speaking in hushed tones.  He wanted to enter the discussion, but Molly Weasley had given him a sharp look when he tried to approach.  There were very few left: Dumbledore, Snape, Mrs. Weasley, Billy, and Florean were the only adults still conscious.  He contented himself with pacing back and forth and evaluating his fellow students. 

Fred was sitting on a nearby table but was noticeably quiet.  [But maybe that's just because the author hadn't given him any lines.]  Without his twin, he seemed very small and alone.  Eliza and Ahren, the young Hufflepuff who was replacement Seeker for Llian, were walking around the unconscious students, ensuring that none of them had fallen in positions that obstructed their breathing.  Cho was trailing behind, looking uncertain.  He wondered how much they would be able to help if it came down to a fight.  Probably more than I give them credit for, he thought, if they had a little direction.  He couldn't see any of them fighting on their own.  He felt bad for being so critical but it was, he assumed, true.

"What're your names?" Harry asked the two seventh year Slytherins.  They had been hanging on the outskirts, half-listening to the conversation.  He didn't know anything about them but reckoned they'd be dead useful in a fight – if they were on the right side.

"My name?" one of them replied.  He narrowed his eyes.  "Whatsit to you?"

"Well, if we're going to be fighting together we might as well get to know each other.  Unless you plan to jump up and join the other side."

"Harry!" Ginny exclaimed.  "Really.  These are the two Draco said were okay.  Everybody in this room is at risk, even the Slytherins.  Don't pass judgments like that so quickly."

The Slytherin rolled his eyes.  "I'm Zachary.  This is Todd."  He gestured towards his silent friend.

Harry nodded politely.  Zachary was tall and lean with ink black skin, while Todd was fair and a bit chunky.  They stood a little closer to each other than Harry was comfortable with, but he _was_ friends with Llian so he tried to not let it bother him.

"What are we going to do with all these chums?" Zachary asked, indicating around the hall at the unconscious students.  "They're sitting ducks.  How can we fight if we're tripping over them?"

Eliza and Ahren rejoined them.  "I sure we can figure something out," Eliza stated.

"Can't she revive them?" Todd asked suddenly, pointing at June.

She shook her head in response.  "I'm Volari, not Veela.  It's a different sort of power.  Mine are mainly defensive; they don't do anything but destroy." 

Growing bored with the conversation, Harry edged nearer to the grownups and the rest followed him.

"What are we planning to do, sir?" Harry asked forcefully to Dumbledore.

"Can we hide under the table, too?" Charlotte asked.  She had spoken in a small voice, half to herself, but the sound carried.

"Of course you will, dearie!" Mrs. Weasley exclaimed, gathering the third year in her arms.  "This isn't your fight to fight, not today."  She let go, sensing Charlotte's discomfort. 

"I want to help!" Charlotte insisted.  "I was just kidding."

"You poor dear, you needn't worry-"

"I don't know much, but I'm sure I can do something."

"No, my child," Dumbledore said.  "Molly is right.  What you can do, however, is help keep the unconscious students out of danger.  Should it come down to a fight, you can help move students to safety if it looks like they may unwillingly become entangled."

"She'll jut get in the way," Zachary muttered.

Dumbledore chose not to hear him.  "You are well versed with _wingardium leviosa_, I trust?"

Charlotte's face lit up.  "I was the quickest in my class to learn it," she bragged. 

Dumbledore smiled kindly.  Harry, however, wasn't fooled by the Headmaster's kindly-grandfather act.  "What about us?  Sir.  Are we going to fight or do you want us to hide under the table too."  His voice oozed with sarcasm.  [Oozed, I like that word.]

Snape, surprisingly, was the first to act.  He stepped up to Harry so quickly that the Gryffindor had backed up a step before he realized what he was doing.  "The Headmaster had already been alive over a hundred years before you were even born, Potter.  If I were you," he said quietly, enunciating every word, "I would show him a little more respect."

Harry glared.  He turned back to Dumbledore, but the old man had already stepped away.  He lifted his hands and scooted the table and their occupants against the wall, leaving a large aisle from the door to the other end of the hall.  "The walls are the strongest points of this room.  The door, also has layers of wards and charms applied from centuries of safeguarding.  If there are more than one, my guess is, they may come through the windows."

"They?" questioned Charlotte.  She looked as if she were about to cry.  Fred, who had been silent and pale and whole time, suddenly put an arm around her.  "Stay by me," he whispered, "and we'll be fine."  She looked embarrassed, but seemed to appreciate the older boy's comforting.

Dumbledore turned back to face them.  "I have joined the wards on the walls to the tables against them.  The students are protected from most spells, but not from flying objects.  They may still need our protection, remember Charlotte?"  She nodded.  He looked around at the rest of them.  "We will guard the door, but be prepared for surprises.  And yes, Mr. Potter, we will all fight."

Mrs. Weasley went pale.  "Albus, the children-"

"All?" Harry asked.  "Just because I wanted to fight doesn't mean everyone else has to dragged into this."

Snape snorted.  "Potter is ready to save the day.  Apparently his publicity this year hasn't been what he'd hoped.  Surely this will make the front page of the Daily Prophet."  He looked ready to go further, but he said nothing else.

"They…" June said softly.  "I…it might only be…one…"

There was a booming crash against the door.

Charlotte shrieked.  Harry quickly pushed past his fellow students and stood in front of them, wand out.  He frowned when Dumbledore and a few others stood in front of him.  They were blocking his view of the door under the pretense of guarding him.  He wasn't a child!

He slipped silently to the left so he had an unadulterated view.

Another boom came, so deafeningly deep that it shook the tables. 

"June, come back down!" Snape suddenly shouted.  For the first time, he sounded afraid.  Harry looked up and found that June had grown back out her wings and was positioning herself above the door, hoping to attack unseen from above.  June was dead useful in a fight, he'd be the first to admit.  She had saved Harry, herself, and Llian from torture and certain death at the hands of a dozen Death Eaters just the previous summer.  The only problem was she lacked strategy.  She was likely just to throw herself haphazardly at the enemy whenever the time looked opportune.  Not to mention that she could just as easily destroy the entire Great Hall as actually hit her opponent.

As the doors began to buckle under whatever was on the other side, he wondered if he was being too harsh.  No one here asked to fight; it wasn't their fault they weren't war strategists or, in Fred's case, seemed emotionally unable to fight.  But that wasn't right either.  This was a war!  If they didn't fight, they would die.  As the doors shook one final time and collapsed onto the floor, he inched even closer.  He was ready, even if his fellow students weren't. 

At first he thought part of the door was still standing, until what he assumed was the remains of the door started moving.  It was only one creature and the strangest one Harry had even seen.  It appeared to be made entirely of wood, with glittering stones for eyes.  What the…

Zachary let out a loud snort of indignation.  "They sent a bowtruckle after us!?  I'm positively hopping frightening."

"That's not a bowtruckle, you foolish boy," Snape hissed.  His voice seemed to have risen several octaves.  "It's an Ardshal."  There were several shrieks of fear.  Apparently most of the room except for Harry knew what that was.

Billy gasped.  "That's dark magic!"

"Well we expected that," Fred said loudly.

"No, I mean _really_ dark magic.  The ceremony to create one requires someone to give up their life.  Their…life energy becomes engrained in this creature…" he voice became a whisper.

"Why isn't it moving?" Zachary asked.  But he had barely finished his sentence when the Ardshal became a blur and struck Dumbeldore hard.  His wand emitted some kind of blue shield before it could reach him, but the strength of the blow was enough to knock him off his feet. 

It didn't wait before attacking again.  The entire group backed up as it flew this time at Snape.  He shrieked as it raked its claws across his chest and flew back across the room before he could react.  June swooped down on it in anger but was quickly throw aside.  She landed hard on her side, her left wing twisting awkwardly under her.

Stupid!  That was just like June.  She attacked when the creature was standing still, on guard, instead of when it was moving and only had eyes for its target.

But it was on the move again, and this time it flew at Professor Fortescue.  He was too slow for it; he fell completely over, his wand flying out of his hand as he tried to use it.  Sensing weakness, it attacked several times in succession, clawing Florean.  Harry was afraid he would hit Florean instead of the creature, but when he saw how much blood the Ardshal had drawn after only a few seconds he threw caution to the wind and cast an impedimenta curse.

The Ardshal snapped its head up and looked straight towards Harry.  It stood there for just a second before attacking, long enough for Florean to let out a feeble moan and for Harry to think, quite distinctly, Oh shit…

His entire world for a few surreal seconds was nothing but the creature's whirling arms and smooth wooden chest.  He felt warm droplets sprinkle his arms and realized vaguely that it was his own blood.  The edges of his vision became blurred and faded as he heard shouting around him.  One voice in particular suddenly stood out.

"Hey, ugly – eat dung!"

Something hit and splattered onto the side of the Ardshal's face.  It looked up and started across the room at a run.  Harry, still dazed, couldn't help the hysterical laughter that suddenly overtook him.  Fred had flung a dungbomb at the Ardshal.

It was halfway across the room, ready to fling itself onto Fred next, when Dumbledore caught it in a flood of blue light.  It was lifted into the air, clawing frantically.  Suddenly, it moved through the Headmaster's blue web and launched itself at Dumbledore.

Without thinking, Harry sent a disarming curse at it, and it flew across the room and hit the wall right above the door.  But the swelling triumph in his chest quickly turned into dismay as the Ardshal sunk into the wall rather than bouncing off of it.

A cry of rage beside him brought him sharply back to reality.  "What did you think you were doing?" Snape snarled, spit flying from his mouth and onto Harry's forehead.  "I don't remember hearing anyone ask you to intervene."

"I was trying to help!" Harry snarled back.

Snape gestured towards the empty wall.  "Does it look like you helped, or are you as big a dunderhead as I've always assumed you to be?"

"Whu- what happened?  Papa?" June asked groggily.  She sat up from where she had been lying on the floor.

Snape continued to glare at Harry a second longer.  He turned to Dumbledore and after a few seconds the few grown-ups herded the teenagers into a small group and formed a circle around them.  "We're trying to put up a ward," Billy explained.  "Just stay inside the circle."

"Why isn't it attacking?" Harry demanded.

"I suppose it's gathering its strength," Billy answered.

"Don't distract us again, boy," Snape snapped over his shoulder.  Billy turned away.

Harry looked around at his small group.  No one seemed much like talking.  Charlotte, Ahren, and Cho sat on the floor, not talking.  June and Ginny looked around nervously at the walls while Eliza stared into space.  Fred stood slightly apart, with what looked almost like a smile on his face.  Todd and Zachary, the Slytherins, were clinging to each other.  Harry had to stop himself from making a face.  He tried to catch Professor Fortescue's eye, but his History of Magic teacher didn't look his way even once. 

Harry had a plan – vaguely formed and perhaps foolhardy – but a plan nonetheless.  But he wanted to talk with Florean first, as the professor had become something of a father figure to him in Sirius' frequent absences.  But first he had to know more about the enemy.

"What the fuck is this…this Ardshal?" Harry demanded.

Zachary shuddered.  "You grew up in a Muggle household, didn't you?" he asked.

"What of it?"

"Well, you wouldn't know.  It's a wizard myth, not anything you'd find in a book, but…well, just part of the culture, I guess."

"It's the wizard's equivalent of the Boogie Man," Ginny supplied.  "A tale to scare young children when they misbehave.  I can't remember how many times mum told me if I didn't stop playing in the mud the Ardshal would come and get me."

"But we didn't know it actually existed," added Fred.  Instead of becoming more withdrawn after his near encounter with the Ardshal, Fred seemed livelier than ever.  "It's only supposed to be a legend."

"But we learned during my first year of Hogwarts that legend can just as well be true," said Ginny matter of factly.  "The Chamber of Secrets is supposed to be a legend."

"So…what is the Ardshal said to do?" asked Harry.

"Do?" repeated Zachary.  "It doesn't _do_ anything.  It's a killing machine, inhuman, unbeatable, unable to be killed because it's not properly alive in the first place."

"I guessing this has something to do with the human sacrifice Billy mentioned," June said.  She had stood deep in thought for a while.  Her wings, now half crushed, had disappeared.  Harry hadn't even known she was listening to the conversation.  He looked to Billy for confirmation, but the adults were busy guarding the perimeter of the Great Hall.  Still determined to not let the _children_ get involved, Harry surmised. 

"Why?" Harry asked.  "What's the purpose of wasting a life to create…what, a half a life?"

"The life force!" Eliza exclaimed.  "A wizard gives up his life force so it can animate an inanimate object.  It's brilliant!  And we can't kill it because it's wood.  We could blast it into millions of tiny pieces and it would still be fine.  Fucking wood!"  She seemed unduly excited about discovering they were facing such a well-crafted opponent.

"You two should have been in Ravenclaw."  Cho talked for the first time since the whole catastrophe started.  June and Eliza grinned at each other.

"Are any of you _people_ forgetting that we're facing an unbeatable opponent and our lives are at stake?  Can't you stay serious for two seconds?" Harry said.  He was getting impatient.  Why didn't the Ardshal attack already?  Harry was ready for it.  He stood constantly on guard, his eyes roaming around as if for the golden snitch, light on his feet and ready for sudden movement. 

"Relax, Harry.  I'm starting to be worried that you're not taking this seriously enough," Fred said with a grin on his face.

Harry felt suddenly infuriated.  "This isn't just about us, this is about the invasion and downfall of Hogwarts!  This is about the deaths of hundreds of innocent people!"  He indicated his unconscious classmates.  "This is about whether the craziest megalomaniac since Grindewald takes over the fucking world!"  Droplets of spit flew into Fred face as Harry inched closer.  "Don't you value your life more than this?"

"No," Fred said easily.

"George would," he replied.  It was below the belt, Harry knew, but he had to say it.  His mind was already whirling, constructing feasible attack sequences by the Ardshal and how he would respond.  He even entertained the possibility that they might have to sacrifice someone – before he caught himself.

Fred was right.  Their lives weren't worth becoming monsters to defend themselves.  Hadn't he learned anything from Crouch Sr.'s downfall?  This was exactly why he had given the Weasley twins his Triwizard winnings last year.  They needed people like Fred, who was in his own way perhaps more mature than Harry, in order to win this war.  Harry knew his place – he couldn't be anywhere else than on the front lines, willing to make hard decisions.  But it was people like Fred, not fighters like Harry, that they needed most of all – people to remind them all that a life without humor and friendship and meaning wasn't worth living at all.

Harry beat down the shame filling his throat like bile to apologize to Fred, but before he had even opened his mouth the wards along the walls fell.

Looking back later, it seemed too simple.  What else would the Ardshal be doing staying hidden in the wall so long?  It was alive; it didn't really need to recover.  It was slowly sucking the energy out of the wards lining the walls of the Great Hall, wards that had stood for hundreds, even a thousand, years.  The shabby ward that the teachers had put up flickered out as the magic surrounding the walls was suddenly shattered.  There was a huge whoosh as they felt the magic sweep away. 

Then the Ardshal was weaving between them, attacking individuals and moving on before anyone had time to act.  A hit here, a scrape there – Harry realized it wasn't trying to kill yet, just confuse and injure them.  Well, it was working.  Fearing for their lives and for other's safety, half the room was in a blind panic.  Todd twisted his ankle trying to dodge, after a blow to the head Ahren fell and didn't get up again, while Fred had his arm practically torn in two when he tried to block the creature from harming Charlotte, the youngest.

Harry was amazing at his own ability to fight and analyze at the same time.  It wasn't really that hard.  It was strategy, like chess.  But no one was thinking farther ahead than trying to dodge the next time the Ardshal flew past.  The worst part was, the adults were being foolhardy too.  Instead of maintaining their tight circle and working together to recreate a ward, they turned around one by one to weave in and out the students, trying to catch the Ardshal.  It was chaos.  Snape, strangely enough, was the first to break the circle, not Mrs. Weasley (as Harry would have suspected).  Perhaps stills mad at June for surprise dive-bombing it, the Ardshal had launched itself first at her and with one swipe had knocked her halfway across the room.  Snape immediately ran to guard her, getting attacked himself and leaving a large gap to the inner circle of children. 

Weak.  It was weak.  Snape wouldn't have done that a year ago, Harry thought disdainfully.  He would have stood his ground.  Even the Headmaster had been lured into letting his guard down when the old man rushed to protect Harry, who had tripped over a cowering Cho when the Ardshal attacked.

As frustrating as the situation was becoming, the more his classmates and teachers became injured, the more confident and eager Harry became.  He could defeat this, he knew he could.  He had the power, the intelligence, all the capabilities needed, and he was damn well going to find a way to destroy the creature.  If it hadn't been made of wood, he would have fantasized ripping the flesh off its body.  He was going to beat it, and if everyone else was going to become too frantic to focus correctly, he would have to do it by himself.

But no sooner than almost everyone had some small nagging injury, the reason for destroying the wards became apparent.  The Ardshal then turned and began to attack the unconscious students slumped against the walls.  They quickly found that they couldn't protect their classmates and each other at the same time.  The floors became slippery with blood.  Even Dumbledore fell into it's trap.  As soon as he used all his energy to block the Ardshal from hurting the defenseless students, the creature would immediately turn and attack the Headmaster before he even had time to lift his wand again.  Everyone stood still for a second as they battled, unsure what to do and afraid to send any curses for fear of hitting the old man. 

Suddenly a small voice behind Harry shouted "Wingardium leviosa!" and the Ardshal was lifted into the air, still struggling.  Dumbledore breathed heavily several times before climbing to his feet with the aide of Snape and Florean.  He looked and smiled at his rescuer, who turned out to be little Charlotte.  But she couldn't hold it for long.  The Ardshal broke through Charlotte's magic and launched itself at her instead.  It swiped at her throat, spraying bystanders in blood and then disappeared again into the wall.

"Charlotte!" Cho cried.  She tried to stop the flow of blood coming out the young girl's throat, but she had been killed instantly. 

"Turn back around!" Harry shouted at the teachers who had turned their backs to the wall to stare at Charlotte in horror.  "You can still make a ward if you stand together!"

"We can't," Billy panted.  "We're too tired now to properly hold a ward."

"Then at least stand your ground!  Don't you see what it's doing?  Distractions, nothing but distractions.  It wants you to turn around every time you see someone get attacked.  You're too busy turning around becoming disoriented going in circles to attack it properly!"

Cho let out a scream of rage.  "Distractions!  This – this isn't a distraction!"  She lifted the dead girl in her arms.  "This is a human life – and excuse us all for fucking being human!"

Harry lowered his voice to a growl.  "Are you going to stay there on the floor protecting someone who's already been killed instead of defending yourself?  Are none of you-"

"Be silent, child!  You don't know what you're saying!!" Snape shouted.  Harry was surprised to see that he looked not angry, but scared. 

"Harry, you must calm yourself.  You are not thinking rationally," Dumbledore said.  But Harry could see a tinge of worry on his brow.

"You – LOOK OUT!!" he pushed Dumbledore out of the way as the Ardshal came out again, but this time even bigger than before.  It looked like it had absorbed part of the wall into itself.  Inside of twig-like, it was now bulky to rival Todd, or Neville for that matter.  Harry used a Reducto curse and blasted it in half.  After the light from the curse dissipated, they found the legs lying several feet from the torso and upper body.

But before anyone had time to congratulate him, the legs suddenly got up and walked into the wall.  The upper body pulled itself by the arms and disappeared into the wall too, just missing the Levitation charm Harry shot at it.  The Ardshal stepped out of the on the other side of the room, newly formed.  This time it had four arms, all with razor sharp claws.

It just gets better and better, Harry thought.

He had to act now, immediately, before anyone else got killed.  He couldn't figure why anyone else hadn't thought of it before.  Because they don't have your powers, he assured himself.  Even Dumbledore, let's face it, didn't have to exact same powers Harry did.  Very few people could move physical objects into and out of Dreamtime.  Very few people could open portals _into_ Dreamtime, rather than through it.  Only Harry.

Every one's depending on me, he thought.  I have to do this – NOW! 

As the Ardshal flung itself forward, Harry split the air in front of it with a hideous ripping sound.  Before it had time to change its course it was hurtling into the void that had suddenly appeared in front of it.  He closed the portal behind it – everything was spinning – he reached out to make sure it was closed all the way – and the floor was suddenly beside him…

"YOU FOOL!!  YOU BLOODY INCOMPETENT IDIOT!!" an unpleasant voice shouted right into his ear.  He felt himself being shaken roughly.

"Severus, let go of him this instant!" Harry heard Dumbledore's voice as well.

He opened his eyes and groaned at the bright sunlight that pierced his eyes.  He looked slowly around the room, not daring to move yet from his spot on the floor.  The Ardshal was nowhere in sight.  "Is it gone?" he whispered.

"No thanks to you!" spat Snape.

Harry looked to Florean, expecting to see congratulations, maybe even awe on his face, but what he received was the coldest look he'd ever seen on anyone's face.  It sent shivers down his spine.  None of the adults, for that matter, seemed especially thrilled.  He looked past them and saw that the students appeared to be in shock.  Except for two: both Eliza and June were so mad they were shaking, and June's lips were curled into a snarl as if she were a rabid animal.

"I would like you to explain why you did this, boy," Florean said tonelessly.  Boy?!  Professor Fortescue had never even once called him anything but Harry.

"I…sent the Ardshal into Dreamtime.  It's gone."

Even Mrs. Weasley, Harry was shocked to see, was infuriated.  "I think you'd better leave," she said, "before someone here hurts you."  Harry started to protest, but she held up a hand to stop him.  "I know you acted on what you believe were the best of intentions, but…"  She seemed incapable of speaking more.

"What?  What did I do?"

"Just leave!" Mrs. Weasley shouted. 

He had never heard Mrs. Weasley use that tone of voice before with him.  "Mrs. Weasley, please-"

"I think Molly's suggestion is best," Dumbledore said.  His back was to Harry so he couldn't see his face.  "We will discuss this later, after the students have been revived and the school is in order."

Harry slowly got to his feet and limped to the door.  The students who were formerly unconscious were beginning to wake up.  Some began whimpering, as they regained consciousness enough to feel the injuries the Ardshal had left them.  Harry looked back for confirmation, but the adults were now pointedly ignoring him and tending to the waking students.  June alone stood silent and still, staring at Harry with a mingled expression of disbelief and horror on her face.

He reached out with his mind to talk to her, the same as they used to do so many months before. 'June?  What is it?'

But in return she let out a mental howl that almost split his head in two.  But after a second she seemed to regain control and started talking.  'You fool!  You bloody fool!  You should have never been born than…'

'What did I do wrong?  I don't understand?  I got rid of it, didn't I?  No one else was doing anything!  Would you rather have all died?'

Her face was like stone.  'Better that than destroying the world,' she replied.  'Don't you remember everything we warned you about?  How huge amounts of energy, including _physical_, _living_ things can't pass between Dreamtime and reality?'

'But _I_ have that power, so why shouldn't I use it?'

'Because you've ripped a hole in the fabric of the universe - the very thing that wizards had feared and predicted for centuries.  You're powerful Harry, but _too_ powerful.  If something as big as the Ardshal could get in, think of how many things can get out.'

'The void creatures!…' Harry was beginning to understand.  It was the most basic, the first rule of visiting Dreamtime.  Whatever can enter the void, many things ten times worse can leave.

'The Ardshal will destroy Dreamtime.  And if Dreamtime is destroyed…'

'It'll open up…into…here, into reality – oh, Merlin – June, please, you have to understand-'

'We have to destroy it; we have to go there.  Do you know how many people can travel into Dreamtime?  You'd better bet that's it's only a small percentage of those who can't be hypnotized…We're going to have to destroy it with even less people than we had to start with.'

The full implications of what she was saying hit him.  His knees suddenly felt weak.  He had opened up a path that should have never been created.  Once a path existed, anything with intelligence and power could eventually find it's way onto it.  Didn't he learn from his scar that these things are irreversible, that the rip created would never be whole again?  He touched his scar lightly, as if it burned him, and this time wasn't surprised to see that his hand was bloody.  Would it ever stop bleeding this time?

"June…" he said out loud.

"I'm sorry, Harry.  I have nothing to say to you."  She turned away.  'Please leave.'

He fled from the hall, out the doors of Hogwarts, into the bright sunlight outside.  Oh Merlin!  What had he done?  What had he done?

[A/N: Just a cheerful reminder that I'm still the same heartless bitch that I always am.  I would wait until I'm sick to finally post this.  So if there are a ton of mistakes, it's because I was too busy blowing my nose to see the keyboard correctly.

Question: Which two HP characters do you think are the main characters?  At first I thought Snape and Harry, then Neville and Snape, now I'm not so sure it's not Harry and Neville.  I guess whoever has a story to tell at the moment pops up the most frequently.

Bonus: 15 points to the person who can tell me what book and author the Ardshal (or it's literary equivalent) comes from!

FYI, there should be about 15 chapters left until the end.  I _do_ intend to finish this!  I hereby swear I will not rest until Dreamtime is written!  Sigh.

Btw, thanks to those of you who reviewed in attempt to get me off my lazy butt.  Especially to Castlerock: I might have eventually written this without daily death threats, but the journey certainly wouldn't have been as interesting.  Thanks, whore.]


	58. The End

Although I haven't written anything for this fanfiction for several years, I recently came across an outline for the end of the story that I never brought to life. I left it sitting on my bookshelf for a long time, thinking that _eventually_ I would flesh it out and finish the story. I decided, for the sake of closure, to post my outline. Enjoy!

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Hogwarts plotline: When we last left Hogwarts, Eliza is recovering after being compromised by a soul-draining book, and Harry is giving all his free time and sanity to the Mirror of Erised, which he has hidden behind the drapes of his bed. Hogwarts was attacked by a mysteriously infallible magical assassin called the Arshal. Fearing for the life of his friends, Harry opened up a portal into Dreamtime, capturing the beast; only instead of congratulations, his friends and classmates practically kick him out of Hogwarts, telling him that he has now damaged the fabric of the universe separating Dreamtime and what they call "reality."

-later repercussions from the Ministry; Hogwarts not safe for children, and Harry's powers worry those in power

-Harry, after some good moping, decides it's time to fix his mistakes: with his friends, he gathers an army of magical beings able to travel into Dreamtime. Among them are the ghosts who earlier helped him and June escape a deathtrap in Dreamtime, Lysiris (the giant winged snake who lives in Dreamtime), and the elves (whose magic inexplicably allows them to follow humans they are loyal to). June brings other creatures she has befriended during her travel, including the deadly Thranx, a winged species similar to the Volari who live solely in Dreamtime. Snape also recruits vampires (being one himself, ha!), and other dark creatures who are able to travel into Dreamtime.

-however, the Arshal is at home in Dreamtime, and had only gained power. As makeshift "army" is fighting to preserve the very fabric of the universe, lots of bloodshed and drama follow.

-in order to defeat the Arshard and close the "holes" the assassin has torn between Dreamtime and "reality," Harry ends up burning a portion of his magical core.

-the aftermath: recovery (which means further tears and drama), parents balk at the killing, Hogwarts is abandoned by frightened parents and Ministry, Ministry in chaos from Death Eater attacks, Harry still recovering physically and mentally, Sirius disappears again

-Arthur Weasley fights for control of the Ministry, comes to bloodshed

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Volari plotline: Neville, Llian, Moody, Lupin, and several new characters are traveling into the wild to ask for help from the Volari. We left them separated and distrustful of each other, as someone is killing them off one by one, seemingly in an attempt to draw out Llian.

-unsure of whom the "traitor" is, the characters are forced to choose sides; despite distrust from other, Neville trusts Aleta, a sarcastic and tough mercenary, and after helping Viola heal her husband, they go in search of Llian

-however, _someone_ has stolen Llian's potion, which allows him (as a half-vampire) to travel in the sun; desperate and ill, Llian hides in the shade and despairs; Edan, a mysteriously blond boy whom Llian has fallen in love with, appears and offers Llian the darkness he seeks (both physical and metaphorical, of course); blinded by love and sick from sunlight, Llian willingly follows Edan through a portal; Neville and party, of course, arrive just in time to see Llian leave, and despair

-Edan brings Llian to Voldemort; still dizzy with sun sickness and love, Llian kneels before V. and weeps; he spends a good amount of time despairing and philosophizing about true love; finally, he comes to the conclusion that "real" love isn't like love in fiction, and can't survive clashing ideologies

-Llian is rescued by Graff / Aleta / Neville; this time, he willingly leaves Edan behind; in the escape, bloodshed ensues

-after a final weary meeting with the Volari, those who are still alive make their way back to Hogwarts

-they arrive to find Hogwarts mostly abandoned, and Harry unable to distinguish between Dreamtime and reality; Neville uses his newly found Healer powers to realign Harry's mind; Harry can no longer open portals into Dreamtime, only close them (yes, this was stolen straight from Philip Pullman's fabulous trilogy His Dark Material); unfortunately, because of this Harry is now vulnerable to death

-Viola (the healer who has been training Neville) helps look into Harry's mind, and discovers that his "superhuman" powers were the result of a massive brain injury as a child, and that these powers were slowly unraveling his mind and would ultimately cause an early death

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Two plotlines converge:

-Hogwarts becomes a stronghold for refugees; foreign humans and creatures begin to trickle in: fairies, void creatures, vampires, giants (thanks to Hagrid), centaurs, unicorns; Death Eaters hold siege to the boundaries of Hogwarts, small skirmishes (and some bloodshed) ensue

-Harry is depressed, his powers and emotions volatile, and unable to reconcile the loss of his abilities; the world is distraught without their hero

-after a small break in the wards, Draco appears; he had poisoned an invisibility potion, neutralized his own and his fathers, and escaped from the Death Eaters; he seeks protection and wants recognition, but is unwilling to fight; Hermione, who had previously fallen in love with him, is now disgusted by his attitude

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The Final Battle!

-chaos, bloodshed, etc.

-students use brooms to fight, Dumbledore falls

-Junes faces Voldemort when no one else will; meanwhile, Ginny is trying to slap Harry awake

-while flying, Llian spots Volari coming to help; the elders recognize June as Ava, realize that she is about to sacrifice herself because she's given up hope, use ancient magic to hold Death Eaters back from the castle

-Snape pretends to be Death Eater, curses whomever he can behind enemy lines

-Harry, finally ready to fight (about time!), makes his way towards Voldemort, and realizes that Nangini is the same snake he set free from the zoo as a 10-year-old; he calls his life debt from her to help him kill Voldemort

-June realizes that something besides Volemort's physical body is keeping him alive; while Harry is fighting V. physically, June uses a blood seal to transfer some of her power to Harry; together they go into Dreamtime (using June's power) and kill his shade from the inside (this doesn't make any sense to me, but whatever, I guess it's dramatic enough)

-Voldemort falls, rejoice and despair

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The End:

-because June lost a portion of her power while transferring it to Harry, the shock of loosing her life-force makes her fall into a magical coma from which she will never awake; her barely breathing body is moved to St. Mungos; Neville is bitter, despairs (on the upside, at least he only has to visit one place on Christmas now)

-Death Eaters are still on the lose but have gone underground

-tired of politics, Harry admonishes the Ministry and others for allowing Voldemort to gain power in the first place

-after gaining some of June's powers, Harry's powers are once again volatile and tearing him apart; Viola tries to help him but predicts that they will eventually kill him

-McGonagall becomes Headmistress after Dumbledore's funeral

-Arthur retires from Ministry to spend time with family; Percy, much matured, takes his place

-Eliza swears to never fight again; wants to become a professor to help rebuild Hogwarts to its former glory

-Neville ironically becomes a second son to Snape, who supports him financially and emotionally on the weary road to becoming a Healer

-life moves on

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I actually wrote several versions of an epilogue where Neville is a Healer at St. Mungo's, and June eventually wakes up from her coma as a squib. Although her family was afraid she would fall victim, once again, to depression, without use of her magic and darker powers, June finally feels free. She becomes a Muggle writer and falls in love again with Neville, who has been waiting for her all this time, too bitter to move on. 


End file.
